Antiquity's Corollary
by GonnaBeFamous
Summary: At Lily's request, Albus Dumbledore has kept a secret from Severus Snape for 17 years. When Dumbledore learns that this secret plays a vital role in the war, however, it is Snape who is left to deal with the consequences. As Harry's true parentage is revealed, both his and Snape's futures become uncertain. The two must learn to work together in order to survive. PreHBP.
1. An Unexpected Warning

Chapter 1

An Unexpected Warning

Disclaimer: All the characters and the world they exist in belong solely to JK Rowling. I love this series and write purely for pleasure.

xxx

Shadowed images darted back and forth, illuminated only by intermittent streaks of colored light flying past. Voices echoed in the distance, but it was impossible to interpret their meaning. A hazy glow penetrated the back of Harry's mind, and he stirred.

Gasps of discomfort escaped from between his lips, but he was totally unaware of the sounds he emitted. To him, it was an obscure amalgamation of noises that he could not recognize; it was an awful, grating sound.

A hiccup that sounded mysteriously like a sob escaped Harry, and the abruptness of the noise roused him to consciousness. Momentarily unaware of his surroundings, a loud groan escaped him as he thrashed, throwing his arms out to feel the area around him and struggling to understand what was going on.

Slowly gaining awareness, Harry struggled to open his eyes; his lids peeled apart sickeningly, sticky from the residual tears that had been flowing unchecked throughout the night.

As his eyes adjusted to the morning light in the dank bedroom of his relatives' home, he took in all that was around him. It was not much; a desk sat in the corner, the temporary home to the books he had not read throughout the summer. His single, deflated pillow lay on the worn wood floor beneath his bed, a casualty of his nightmares. The window, completely devoid of dressings or decorations, allowed sunlight to stream in unfiltered.

As his vision became focused and clear, Harry reminded himself that the irrational fear he was experiencing was only part of the dream that lingered in his sleepy brain. Eager to shake the feeling, he rolled out of his bed, stripping damp clothes from his body as he registered the uncomfortable feeling of them. The August heat made his poorly ventilated room unbearable; once he had gathered a clean set of clothes, he quickly escaped.

In the hallway, Harry crept quietly down to the lavatory. Per usual, he had awakened long before the Dursleys. Lately, they had a tendency towards summer lie-ins. Harry found that the easiest way to avoid them was to rise long before them; thanks to his perpetual nightmares, it was not difficult to do. A cold shower shocked Harry's brain to attention; when he had finished, he dressed quickly and left the house, relieved to have easily escaped the wrath of his Aunt Petunia and cousin, Dudley, once again. The mornings when he failed to do so had not been easy.

Despite the warning given to the Dursleys at the beginning of the summer, Harry's holidays had not been, by any measure, better than previous ones. Though they were aware of the repercussions that would immediately follow blatant mistreatment, they were no further inclined to treat him any differently than they would a stray dog. It was no mystery how they felt about him; the three malevolent glares that greeted him whenever he entered the room sent a very clear message.

Not that Harry cared, of course. He preferred to be alone.

The shock of Sirius' death had not immediately hit Harry at the beginning of the summer. It had been so sudden that at times, he could almost convince himself it had been a bad dream. He certainly had enough of those to make such an explanation plausible.

However, when he awoke every morning to the same awful feeling of loss, he could not deny that the events of the previous year had truly transpired. Night after night, he was forced to experience it all over again. He repeatedly relived it; watching the spell that had killed his godfather as if in slow motion. Getting dragged away by Lupin, unable to go after the man who had meant so much. Sitting in Dumbledore's office, facing the reality that Sirius was never going to return to him.

The suffocating anger he experienced every time he replayed these events was intolerable. During his waking hours, he did whatever he could to repress the feeling.

Harry wished constantly for an adequate distraction from his misery. He attempted to intercept the post every morning, maintaining hope that he would receive some word that would disrupt the monotony of boredom and self-deprecation. However, he had received only a few letters from his friends, each as uninformative as the last.

_Dear Harry,_

_Things are fine here; hope things are the same for you. I've finished all of my homework, from a Transfiguration essay that I've found to be in need of serious revision. O.W.L. scores arrive two weeks before term starts. Hope you aren't putting things off. See you soon._

_With love,_

_Hermione_

That had been the friendliest letter he had received all summer. Then came Ron's.

_Dear Harry,_

_Business as usual, Hermione has forced me to finish most of my homework. Mum says to say hello, and told me not to tell you that we'll be coming to rescue you at the first sign of trouble. Can't tell you why now, but hopefully you'll be here before long._

_Ron_

_P.S. Chudley Cannons won their game against Birmingham last week. I'm trying to convince Dad to take us, if Mum will allow it. Perhaps you can help me convince her when you get here._

But this had been weeks ago, and still, there had been no rescue attempt in sight.

After checking the post for the morning and finding it empty yet again, Harry quickly made his way out to the garden. He could not go far, he knew, but as long as he was not in the house, the Dursleys would leave him be; this was good enough for him. As usual, he started at the back of the house, spending a short time pulling weeds from the flower beds. It was a simple chore that kept his Aunt happy enough, and it had become somewhat of a morning ritual.

The silence of the garden soothed Harry in a way most activities could not. In the bright sunshine and fresh air, he found that his feelings of depression were not quite so overwhelming. The hours passed quickly with the lack of interruption; Dudley did not much care for spending time outside.

Though Harry normally had an understandable aversion to housework, he found lately that he welcomed the distraction. He was miserable, here, for too many reasons to count. It was rewarding to find activities that required enough concentration to overshadow the dark places to which his mind wandered when left to its own devices.

Sirius' death was not the only trauma Harry had experienced at the end of the year. The prophecy he had discovered also weighed heavily on his mind; it was such a bitter ending, to either be murdered or become the murderer. Death was beginning to seem almost appealing, when Harry considered the impossibilities of defeating Voldemort. He hardly knew where to begin; it seemed that he would always battle this demon, never with a resolution in sight.

At the very least, considered Harry, death could reunite him with Sirius, and his parents. With the likelihood of his demise increasing with every passing year, he tried to remain prepared for such an outcome.

A bitter laugh escaped Harry, and he instantly screwed up his face at the sound of it. Shaking his head, he sat back on his heels and contemplated the flower beds before him. Clearly, after the night of dark dreaming he'd endured, it would take more than a few weeds to keep him occupied.

Harry stood and removed his dirty cloth gloves, tossing them on the ground next to an overgrown patch of lavender. He ran his hands through his already unkempt hair and straightened his wrinkled clothes over his recently shrunken frame. He needed more fresh air than he could get here; he needed a change of scenery.

Harry knew he was to stay close to the Dursleys' house, and he had no plans to violate the terms of his agreement with Dumbledore to stay there. However, he also knew that Dumbledore had assigned members of the Order of the Phoenix to keep an eye on Privet Drive. He would not find himself in the trouble he had the past summer, if he stayed close. He needed a walk.

xxx

Perched like an awkward bird that had not yet learned to fly, Severus Snape sat in the very same tree that he had seen a young Harry chased up into by a dog during their Occlumency lessons the past year.

Truthfully, Severus would have preferred to attend a private meeting with the Dark Lord as opposed to playing watchdog over the boy-who-lived. He did not attempt to conceal his disdain for the boy; it was a well known fact that the only feelings between the two were those of malevolence. Yet, Dumbledore had insisted that no one else was available to guard Privet Drive on this particular morning. Dumbledore, as Severus knew very well, was difficult to refuse. He had promised that someone would be along to relieve Snape of his duties shortly.

Severus snorted to himself. When one had lived a century and a half, he reflected, 'shortly' appeared to be a relative term. It had been hours since he had climbed onto a low branch of the tree, hoping to finish some reading while on this relatively useless mission. He had assumed he would not need to move, nor would he need to hide, during the short time he was meant to keep watch. When the object of his disdain had moved into the back garden at a very early hour, however, he had realized the flaw in his plan. He hadn't counted on needing to move discreetly, and there was certainly nothing discreet about a thirty-something year old man climbing down from a tree. Even under a disillusionment charm, he could not maintain his cover if he was falling through the branches.

It was therefore very gratifying when the Potter boy eventually decided to give up his post on the garden. Though Severus did not especially relish the idea of following the boy like a watch dog, he did want to move from the position that had become so uncomfortable over the past hour.

Once the boy had exited through the side gate, Severus climbed down from the tree. He was not accustomed to the duty of protecting Harry Potter; at a loss for what to do if the boy left the house, he decided he had best follow him, before the boy got himself into the trouble he was famous for.

xxx

Harry walked slowly as he left the Dursleys' house; he had no particular goal in mind, only to calm his mind before he returned again. As he walked along, he found his thoughts drifting to the coming year at Hogwarts.

Harry never dreaded the start of term, even if homework and classes were not his favorite pastimes. He looked forward, every summer, to leaving the Dursleys and starting his life at what he considered his true home. Though his years were always filled with various tribulations, he found himself highly anticipating the arrival of September. Nothing could be worse than the summer of boredom and misery he had endured here.

Nothing, of course, Harry quipped to himself, except Potions with Professor Snape. He had completed his O.W.L.s the prior year, and though Potions was not his best subject, he held out hope that he had passed his test with standards high enough for even his hated Professor. Hermione had spent weeks upon weeks preparing him for the exam, and though he would have relished the opportunity to dodge Snape for the rest of his career at Hogwarts, he knew he had to do his best if he were to eventually become an Auror.

Though Harry hated to admit that Snape could affect him so easily, the thought of him made Harry so angry that his stomach burned like a furnace housing a bed of hot coals. Harry had made many changes in his attitude since the death of Sirius, but he had not yet let go of his contempt for the vindictive Potions master.

Snape. A man who was perpetually bitter, an old man with no one to care for in the world. Harry was not naïve. He could see the pettiness of the man's behavior towards him; all due to a grudge against James Potter, he had treated Harry like scum on the bottom of his shoe since he'd started at Hogwarts, a mere child, then.

Even worse, he reflected, was the way he had allowed Sirius to die due to the grudge. Certainly, the man had made it seem as though he had made the greatest effort to save him. He had allowed Harry to take the blame for everything. What he hadn't admitted to was his own role in Sirius' demise; if he had only listened to Harry, given him a sign that he would find help, everything might have been different.

It was as though he had _wanted _Sirius to die.

He certainly wasn't sorry. He didn't quite seem upset about it. If anything, he was gloating.

The injustice was almost too much to bear. Dumbledore should have canned the man long ago; the fact that he hadn't yet only spoke to Snape's powers of manipulation.

Without having decided to, Harry uttered in a low growl, "Snape." In anger, he aimed a swift kick at a nearby stone, glaring at it as it skidded away.

xxx

Severus stalked slowly along, maintaining several paces behind Harry Potter. He could hear the boy mumbling to himself as he went, but could not make out the few words he'd uttered. Just as well, he considered. He didn't have any true interest in the Potter boy anyway. He was here simply as a service to Dumbledore; if the man hadn't kept him out of Azkaban multiple times, he might have been able to refuse this favor. However, he recognized how much he owed to him. No matter how tedious the task, Severus supposed he could sacrifice a few hours of the day for the good of the Order.

It didn't take long for Severus to realize he was being followed. When he did, his hand was instantly in his robe pocket, clutching his wand, as he glanced over his shoulder.

He was surprised to see, however, that it was no enemy following him as he trailed Harry Potter. It was a set of three muggles; one, he recognized from Harry's Occlumency lessons as his cousin. The other two, well, they were of no consequence.

Severus was surprised when the three boys rushed past him, apparently attempting to catch up to Harry. He did not act right away, but his eyes narrowed in suspicion as he watched them approach. He knew he was supposed to protect Potter from ill-intending Wizards or Witches, but what was he to do about a wayward muggle or two?

xxx

Harry had been walking only a few minutes when the sound of heavy footsteps drew him out of his reverie. His eyes slanted to the side as he turned his head, and he caught sight of his cousin and friends. He huffed, returning his gaze to the ground in front of him, increasing his pace.

This couldn't mean anything good for Harry. It never did.

Harry's first thought was to pull out his wand. He would have loved a reason to hurt them after everything they had done to him, and he wasn't even sure if he would get in trouble for it.

He tried to remember his resolution not to do anything impulsive. If he did any more illegal magic, he would surely be expelled from Hogwarts. He couldn't risk such a thing; he needed to finish his schooling, and if he was forced to remain with the Dursleys for the duration of the year, he feared it would be the end of him… or them. The hand that was slowly making its way towards his wand pocket pulled back to his side.

He decided his best option was simply to keep them talking long enough for Dudley to get cold feet and lead them off somewhere else.

Unexpectedly, Harry whirled around and stopped in his tracks. Immediately, the other boys followed suit. Harry resisted the urge to grin at their surprised expressions; they apparently thought themselves quite sly. He was proud of himself as he realized he looked far more threatening than he really was.

"Ah, Dudley," he greeted his cousin as nonchalantly as possible, leveling him with a strong stare. "I suppose you ran out of fun hunting chocolate biscuits. Looks as though it was a successful endeavor though." His eyes flickered up and down Dudley's thick form. The boy was glowering at him resentfully, but did not appear brave enough to challenge him when Harry was clearly clutching his wand within his pocket.

The other two boys, however, did not realize the danger Harry presented.

"Actually," Malcolm started complacently, "we were thinking it's been far too long since our last… play date. Don't suppose you remember the old days… before you were sent off to St. Brutus's, that is."

"I do remember, actually," retorted Harry. "Back before the centre for incurably criminal boys. Lucky I was released this summer…on a technicality, anyway. Turns out, shoelaces don't _really _qualify as weapons if no one can prove you used them as such… and it's rather hard to prove."

The boys looked slightly fazed, but they quickly recovered. Then Malcolm grabbed Harry by the back of his shirt before he could bolt and pulled him closer. Piers stepped around him and stared into his face.

"What have you got planned now, huh?" he mocked Harry. "Going to bleed me with your sock?"

"Thanks for the idea," Harry gasped, the fabric of his shirt tightening restrictively around his neck. He began pulling his wand from his pocket, unnoticed by the other two boys; Dudley, however, instantly recognized the maneuver.

"Set him down, boys. That Robert kid's left his new bicycle outside unguarded. We can come back later," Dudley instructed, glancing at Harry. After a moment of hesitation, the two boys released Harry, giving him one more disgusted look, before reluctantly following Dudley out of the backyard and down the street.

Harry watched them leave, straightening his clothes and stowing his wand back in his pocket. He would attempt to make it look as though nothing had happened to him, in order to retain some semblance of pride. He shook his head and turned back towards the house, intent on flopping down on his bed and resuming the daily activity of staring at his ceiling when he returned. As he walked, however, he couldn't ignore the distinct feeling of anxiety building up in his chest and raising the little hairs on the back of his neck. He stopped where he was and turned around slowly, gripping his wand and glancing around with narrowed eyes.

A cold laugh alerted him to someone else's assured presence as he reached his back garden.

"Lovely display, Potter, really."

Harry knew that voice. He'd been subjected to its drawling, sneering tones since his first year at Hogwarts. "Malfoy?" he questioned, suspiciously, looking around. His wand was instantly drawn again.

Within seconds of speaking, Harry jolted forward at the impact of a clump of dirt colliding with the back of his head. He whirled around frantically; he didn't like this. Malfoy was playing with him, and that couldn't be a good sign.

"Stop fooling around, Malfoy, and show yourself!" Harry demanded, backing away from where he thought the other boy must be standing.

"Stop walking, Potter, or you'll back right into me."

Harry whirled around, expecting to see empty space. Instead, he jumped back as he found himself standing not a metre away from Draco Malfoy. The boy held a stone the size of his fist; he tossed it up into the air and caught it again in an obvious display of bravado.

"A little payback for third year, you understand," Malfoy said, smirking and tossing the rock again. He then paused to sneer at Harry's overlarge clothes, which he'd apparently only just noticed.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry said, jaws locked and clear green eyes focused warily on his potential opponent. Abandoning rationalization, he raised his wand. Malfoy, however, hadn't so much as drawn his.

"What do any of us want, Potter?" asked Draco with a sneer.

"You tell me," Harry demanded.

"Actually, Potter,' Malfoy said, dropping the mock attitude and folding his hands in front of him, "I came to do something for _you_."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You had better start talking sense, Malfoy, or-"

"You want to get out of here, Potter," Malfoy said abruptly, cutting him off. It wasn't at all a question.

"What?"

"Are you deaf?" inquired Malfoy drolly. "You need to find a way out of this…_house_… as soon as possible."

Harry held his wand warily in front of him. "Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Does it matter why?" Malfoy asked, eyebrows raised. "It should serve to tell you that if you don't leave, you and your…" he paused and wrinkled his nose, "…muggle relatives are in danger you could barely comprehend. So hop on your broom, hail the knight bus, it really doesn't matter… just make sure you're gone by this weekend." He smirked at Harry for a second. "You think this is a trap," he assessed coolly, amused but unsurprised by the notion.

"Am I wrong?" Harry said, knowing full well that Malfoy wouldn't tell him, even if he was.

Malfoy shrugged. "What do you think? How would it benefit me to lead you into a trap?" He paused to smirk, and started again before Harry could answer. "I'm just giving you a warning, Potter, you can take it or leave it."

"How does it benefit you to warn me?" Harry said, growing frustrated at Malfoy's cool front. "You never have before."

"It's never seemed as important, before," said Malfoy simply.

"What does _that _mean?" Harry asked incredulously. "Why?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes and gave a heaving sigh. "You really are thick, you know that, Potter? I'm sure you understand the position I am in, knowing what you know about my father."

"No, not really," Harry said, shaking his head.

Malfoy raised his eyebrows. "I am expected to take the Dark Mark this year. I turn seventeen early in December. I have very little time to set my affairs in order. Before you ask how you are involved in my affairs, allow me to explain.

"There is obviously a reason for the Dark Lord's obsession with you. If you want to know my theory, I think you're the only person who can eliminate him… you already came close once. Now, while my father and others are convinced that if they are on the Dark Lord's side, they will prevail, I don't see the point in living a life of servitude. I'd really prefer to make a little more of myself than a common minion."

"Oh, so you're turning your back on the whole 'evil' thing?"

"Now, I never said that," Malfoy said slyly, smirking. "But I don't much like the idea of being in league with him. I'm not doing this because I _like_ you, Potter, so don't get any funny little ideas in that big head of yours. But if my theory is correct… then you need to live… and I stand to gain nothing by your death. You need to leave."

"But-"

"I'll give you no more information on the subject, Potter. Do you honestly think that I want your escape traced back to me? Take my warning or leave it; those are your choices, so I suggest you choose… and quickly, if you possess the mental capacity to do so."

"I thought you hated me," Harry said, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oh, I do," Malfoy said reassuringly, nodding. "I hate you firstly because you are a Gryffindor, secondly because you are a self-obsessed prat, and thirdly, because _no one_," he paused and narrowed his eyes, "is fool enough to mess with a Malfoy. Believe me, I meant it when I told you that I would make you pay for putting my father in Azkaban, but it's not going to be in the way you think."

He considered Harry for a moment, lip curled, before bringing his hand up to the necklace strung around his neck. Harry quickly realized that it was a Portkey. "Well… until the start of term, Potter… if you can make it that long."

With these parting words, Malfoy gave Harry a solemn nod and clutched the charm on the end of the necklace, disappearing from sight… and leaving Harry to decipher what he had just been told.

xxx

AN: Edited since original chapter posting.

My greatest wish is firstly that you will finish this story; secondly, that you will review at some point. I do plan to complete the story; I will never abandon it until that is finished.

I am in the process of editing chapters from the beginning, so your input will be well received if you choose to give it.

Thank you for reading :)


	2. The Watcher

Chapter 2

The Watcher

xxx

Harry stood in the middle of the Dursleys' garden, totally bewildered and unable to formulate a plan. He had always been one to act quickly; only a year ago, he might have made a break for Hogwarts, and worried about the consequences later. However, considering the source of his information, and the consequences of his rash actions the year prior, he knew that he needed a moment to contemplate the possible outcomes of his actions before he committed to them.

Harry could hardly believe the difficult situation he was now facing. He knew that if he were at Hogwarts, the best plan would have been to consult any trusted adult. However, here in this muggle neighborhood, he had few options. If what Malfoy had said was true, then he didn't have time to owl anyone. The message would never get there in time, and he couldn't include all the necessary information since it could be intercepted. He did not have the ability to take advantage of the floo network, either. Not only was it sometimes unsafe to use such a highly regulated method of transportation, he didn't even have the means to do so here.

What could Harry do? He didn't know how to get in contact with anyone from Hogwarts; it suddenly seemed like poor planning on Dumbledore's part. What was Harry to do in the case of emergency, with no way to…

Oh.

The answer came to Harry suddenly, as though it had implanted itself into Harry's brain before he'd realized what had happened. Dumbledore _had _planned for events such as these…that is why he had told Harry he would be watched over for the duration of the summer.

Harry looked around quickly, as if expecting to see a robe-clad stranger striding towards him at any moment. It occurred to him how odd it was that whoever was supposed to be on duty had done nothing to stop Malfoy from waltzing right onto the Dursley's property. It seemed not only irresponsible, but positively negligent. Here Harry was, at a complete loss for what to do, and someone in the area was failing to perform the one job they'd been given for the day.

It was maddening. If Harry couldn't be involved in the Order, he should at least by protected by it.

A wave of resentment came over Harry. These were the exact situations in which he was expected to stay calm in. "Keep your head"—that's what Lupin had been writing him all summer.

This was a time when he was supposed to sit back and let the adults handle everything, listen to instructions, and do what he was told. But where were the adults in times like these? Well, Harry didn't know, did he? And why? Because no one ever told him anything! No one ever bothered to let him know what was going on, tell him what to do in these situations, or inform him of the steps they were taking. Harry was tempted to do something rash and impulsive just to irritate them, to punish them, to prove his point… or… just to get them to show up.

An idea suddenly came to Harry. An idea that would get him what he wanted, but not hurt. And if it didn't work, then he would at least know that he was on his own, and then he could try and figure out what to do next.

Harry spun around, and threw his arms into the air.

"Hello?" he called, looking around expectantly for some sign that he was not alone. "Is anyone there?"

Still, no answer. Harry huffed in irritation, and continued complain—although it was now aimed more at himself than any mysterious unseen being. "What am I supposed to do? I had better get some answers, and I had better get them soon, because if I don't—"

A warm hand clamped down over his mouth; at least, he thought it was a hand. His eyes darted around frantically. The trouble was that he couldn't see anyone around him, though he felt a body pressed up against him, holding his arms at his side. He squirmed, trying to wiggle his fingers into his pocket to grab his wand. He couldn't reach it. Panic began to overwhelm him, but he quickly became aware of his captor as a familiar low voice spoke in his ear.

"If I let go of you, you will promise not to utter a single sound."

The voice was dangerous, and the words formed as though they'd been spoken through clenched teeth. Harry broke into an almost instantaneous cold-sweat; if he hadn't been nervous before, he certainly was now.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

"You will go into the house, and I will follow. Then—" the voice became deeper and more threatening. "We will have a little chat."

Though he was perfectly dry, Harry suddenly felt as though he'd been doused in a pail of ice-cold water. His stomach did somersaults as he realized to whom the voice belonged. He walked, legs slightly trembling, into the house, and was displeased to find the Dursleys gathered in the sitting room. They looked at him dumbly for a moment, and Harry knew his guard had arrived when their faces paled slightly.

Harry didn't have to turn around to know that Severus Snape was standing there, now completely visible. And he was indeed; Snape stepped around Harry towards the Dursleys.

"I am Professor Snape," he said, extending his hand. "A teacher at Hogwarts."

But Uncle Vernon didn't shake hands; he only glared at him. Snape pulled his hand away; he appeared totally unmoved by the cold reception. Harry's Uncle Vernon stood; the way he puffed out his chest made it seem as though he were trying to intimidate the dark Potions' master, but Harry knew this was impossible.

With his beady eyes darting around quickly and his cheeks puffing in and out, Vernon looked very much as though he would like to physically throw Snape from the house. All he managed, though, due to Snape's terrifying presence, was a very snappish, "Yes?"

Snape's eyebrows lifted; he clearly hadn't been expecting such a reply. He quickly met Vernon's rude disposition, however, by narrowing his eyes and glaring down at him.

"I need a word with Potter, privately. So if you could excuse yourselves," said Snape abruptly, motioning towards the door.

"This is my house," Vernon started, a defiant scowl spread across his overlarge face. "I'll not be excusing myself from my own room."

Snape raised an eyebrow and responded articulately, "It _really_ wasn't a request."

Dudley was slowly edging out of the room, noticeably trembling as he did so.

Snape looked in annoyance at the large boy cowering in fear, and then went on. "Mind you, you haven't much choice in the matter. The only choice you _do_ have is whether or not to do so on your own terms."

Harry would have thought this appallingly rude if it had not been for the fact that these were the Dursleys. Vernon's face was turning a deep shade of magenta, and Petunia's thin lips were pursed so tightly that they almost looked permanently stuck together. Snape's subtle threat, however, seemed to overpower their desire to do anything more than glare nastily back at him.

Within mere minutes, Harry and Snape were alone. As Harry looked up into the stormy face of his Professor, he realized that he much preferred the company of the Dursleys.

Snape closed the door to the parlor with a harsh flick of his wand, and proceeded to close the blinds on the windows. He flourished his wand several times; Harry could only assume he was placing silencing charms on the room. He had obviously _meant_ "privately" when he'd said it.

When he seemed satisfied that there would be no uninvited guests eavesdropping on the conversation, he turned his attention back to Harry.

"Sit," he said, pointing to a chair. Harry did as he was told.

"Well, Potter, are you satisfied?" Snape inquired icily, folding long arms and staring down at the boy through narrowed eyes. Harry stayed silent.

"You haven't any idea how much trouble this has caused, do you?" he asked with a sneer, shaking his head. "You couldn't have waited for me to call another Order member to your aid."

Still, Harry did not speak. He was both afraid and infuriated, and did not trust himself to respond.

"No, I'd thought not," continued Snape, paying little attention to Harry's lack of response. "Did it occur to you that there might be a reason no one had yet arrived? That is the problem with you, Potter. In your ignorance, you fail to see any reasoning other than your own."

Harry was literally biting his tongue; the pain was a reminder not to rise to Snape's bait. He _had_ tried to see other reasoning; he'd stayed where he was, hadn't he? In fact, Harry felt he'd been quite clever to force someone to come to him, rather than wait around like a sitting duck.

"You may not be concerned with this, Potter," Snape continued spitefully. "Undoubtedly you feel you're worth the risk…" His lip curled unpleasantly as he gave Harry a contemptuous once-over. "But you put the entire Order, and especially my position, at stake. Should the Dark Lord find out that you are being guarded at all times, he will use that to his advantage, especially," Snape paused for emphasis, "if he finds out that Dumbledore trusts me with you. Right now, all he knows about you, in relation to me, is that I am your teacher. The Headmaster and I have purposely led him to believe that Dumbledore trusts no one with you, least of all myself," Snape finished.

Had someone else been lecturing him, these words might have made Harry feel guilty. However, he refused to allow Snape to affect any of his emotions. There was only one small voice in the back of his head that responded to the Professor's goading.

_If you had considered the risks you were taking before,_it said, _then Sirius might not have died…_

Harry's lips pressed together unconsciously, and he shook the former thought from his head. He would not allow Snape to make him feel this way; many of the things that had gone wrong the prior year were just as much Snape's fault as Harry's.

"Do you understand what would happen, Potter, if Malfoy were to tell the Dark Lord that he had witnessed me coming to your rescue, today?"

"Yes," Harry responded, even though he hadn't thought about it much at all.

"He might ask me to kill you, Potter," replied Snape as though he hadn't heard Harry's answer. "And though I would relish the opportunity," he continued snidely, "I doubt it would be well received by the Headmaster."

"So then I suppose you would have to spare me," Harry retorted.

"Yes, thereby condemning myself," agreed Snape. "I am certain you would enjoy that quite thoroughly. I do not, however, make these sacrifices for you, Potter. I will not."

"What for, then?"

"How exceedingly hubristic you can be, Potter. I do what Dumbledore asks of me, and my reasoning is no concern of yours."

"So what might you do, if you were asked to kill me?"

Snape looked down at him, eyes glinting indistinctly, expression inscrutable.

Harry wished he would answer, or look away. Something about the unreadable look on Snape's face was disquieting; Harry was unable to tell what was going on behind those dark eyes, behind the face that gave away nothing.

"Sometimes," Snape muttered at last, "I wonder if the reason you never use your head is that nothing is in it."

"Well, at least there's something in my heart," Harry replied quickly, uncharacteristically venomous. "Unlike yours. You've never loved a thing a day in your life."

The snarl that escaped Snape as he lunged forward several steps shocked Harry; he backed away, unintentionally falling into one of the Dursleys' plush recliners. He stared up at Snape as the man began to hiss his response.

"You think nothing of consideration for others, the rules and whom you affect by breaking them!" the dark man snapped, bringing his face close to Harry's own. "As long as things go the way you want them to, whom you hurt in the process does not matter to you. It is the same reckless ignorance that drove your Father and his idiot followers to death and despair. You have little concern, however, because you are Harry bloody Potter. I know—you lead such a difficult life, so you deserve the Order's undivided attention. You deserve to have people fawn over you and cater to your every need. You have spent so much time trying to get people to stop fussing over you, but now that they finally have, you want that back. You are like a petty schoolgirl fishing for compliments. You—"

"That's enough!" Harry snapped, getting to his feet. Snape's pale face was but inches from his own; Harry could see every hard line of his face pulled taught into a deadly glare. It did nothing to hold him back; his temper had reached its boiling point.

"I'm so sick of you acting like I'm so horrible, like I don't care for anyone but myself!" Harry shouted into his face. "You don't know how far from the truth that is! And as for getting on my case about breaking rules, I don't see where you have any room to talk! At least when I break them, it's usually for a good reason! But you! Should I _really_ be listening to lectures about right and wrong from a Death Eater?"

The moment the words had escaped his lips, Harry knew he'd made a very big mistake. His eyes widened slightly, and he drew back, awaiting his Professor's reaction. Part of him was worried; after all, the doors were locked—he had nowhere to bolt if Snape responded to his defiance with the same amount of fury he had the previous year…

There were a few moments of deadly silence in which Snape seemed to be deciding exactly what to do; his teeth were clenched so tightly that Harry could hear them grinding together from inside his mouth.

"You really want to discuss the past, Potter?" Snape finally hissed spitefully. He didn't need to say any more to strike a nerve, and he knew it. A triumphant smirk crept onto his face.

Harry glared at him, dying to retort- he could point out the fact that the only reason his past had been so miserable was the lowlifes who had nothing better to make of themselves than gratuitous minions to Voldemort, desperate for some sense of power to compensate for their cowardice. He bit back on these words, however, and remained silent. He didn't think he could handle another one of the man's tirades, chalked full of insults to him and his family - or what would have been his family…

"That's what I thought," Snape said with a satisfied nod of his head. He swept his wand around the room and stepped towards the door.

"Someone will be here to collect you soon. Until then, _stay here_."

With one last dark glance at Harry, Snape disillusioned himself once again and disappeared from sight. The only sign that he had left was the banging of the door as it closed behind him.

xxx End Chapter xxx


	3. Results

Chapter 3

The Results

Harry watched Snape go… or rather, he watched the door close; Snape was impossible to see. He glared after the man, how he hated him. He had to turn everything into something that Harry had done wrong. Draco had waltzed into his backyard and plainly stated a million things that Harry wasn't even permitted to write in a letter!

But then, this was the way things always went. Snape would make excuses for any of his Slytherins, but with Harry, he was always at fault in some way.

Harry left the room, and started towards his own. He passed the Dursleys on the way, and was almost at the stairs when he heard Uncle Vernon shouting, "Harry Potter!"

Harry grudgingly turned and made his way back to the living room. He had nearly made it to safety, too. He walked into the room, and Uncle Vernon was on his feet; Aunt Petunia was standing behind him with her arms crossed, and the same nasty expression on her face she'd had a short while ago.

"Yes?" Harry said testily. He didn't care if his Uncle blew up at him. A member of the order would be here soon anyways, and he would be gone.

"What was that- man- doing here?" Vernon said, making it sound as though Harry had invited him.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that," Harry said very matter-o-factly, feigning a look of innocence. "It's top secret."

"Top secret, eh," Vernon fumed. "And what's so "top secret" about it? Are you planning something boy, heh? Common, out with it! What's going on?"

"Nothing you need to know about." Harry said, crossing his arms. Even if he did try to explain, his uncle would never believe him. Was there any point to it?

"You're sneaking around again boy, and I don't like it!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, causing Aunt Petunia to give a little jump. "Last summer, you spent all your time trying to listen in on the radio and television set, and then Dudley was attacked by those, demendy things. Then, next thing I know, my whole family's in danger, and you're being willingly abducted from my house when I'm on my way to a false lawn ceremony! So what is it this time? Why was that man here?"

"Well, it doesn't matter why," Harry said, wondering if Uncle Vernon had forgotten about the incident with Aunt Marge and her rapid inflation. "Someone will be here to collect me soon; that's all you need to know. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go pack. I don't think you want me to have to tell them I haven't because I was too busy being interrogated by you."

Vernon looked as if he didn't quite know what to say to this, so after several moments of angry but stumped sputtering, he finally managed a "Fine," through his clenched teeth.

Harry gave him a very sarcastic smile and nod before turning and darting down the hall and up the stairs to his room. He began throwing everything into his trunk, excited to be leaving. He wondered vaguely who would be coming to collect him. He hoped it would be someone like Tonks or Mr. Weasley, someone he liked.

He stepped over to Hedwig's cage, and opened up the hatch, taking her out onto his arm. She gave him a doleful hoot and blinked her large amber eyes at him; she'd been put to little use this summer, and it seemed to put a damper on her normally bright disposition.

"I'm gonna let you go, now, girl," He said quietly, stroking her beak. "You can come and find me; I know you're good at that. But I have to go, and it's too difficult for me to carry you with me. Here," He gave her an owl treat and carried her to the window. "Find me soon; I may be needing you," he said, and released her into the pink evening sky.

Harry watched as Hedwig disappeared into the distance, and then finished packing his things. Then, he took one last look around his room to insure that he hadn't forgotten anything, and sat down on the bed to await his escort. Not but fifteen minutes later, he heard the doorbell ring downstairs. He leapt off his bed and rushed downstairs to greet the door. He swung it open, and was thrilled to see Bill Weasley standing there, a mischievous smirk gracing his face. He looked just the same as always, he had a long fang earring dangling from his ear, and his flaming orange hair was tied back into a low ponytail.

"One moment," Harry said breathlessly (He had literally run down to the entryway). "My things are upstairs. I'll run get them." With that, he turned and once again bounded up the stairs. He reappeared only a moment later, trunk dragging behind him and cage banging at his side. Bill smiled at him and took the cage. He then performed a shrinking charm on it and the trunk, then placing both into the sack that was hanging over his own shoulder, and turned back to Harry.

"Where are your relatives?" Bill asked, looking around. He seemed slightly surprised that they had not yet come to see Harry off. Harry, however, knew better than to expect this.

"Oh, they don't care that I'm going." Harry said, not the slightest bit of disappointment in his voice. "But I suppose I should let them know I'm off, yeah?"

Bill nodded, an eyebrow raised. He knew something of Harry's living conditions, but it was still a shock how little a relationship Harry had with his guardians. He had, after all, grown up with Mrs. Weasley, and was used to a very good family life.

Harry went into the room where the Dursleys were again sitting in front of the television. "Well, I'm off then." He said. Then, taking their silence as an ok, he headed back down the hall towards Bill.

"Ready?" asked Bill.

"Ready." Harry said with a nod.

And out the door they went. They started walking down the street, and Harry turned to Bill. "Where are we going?" He asked.

"There's a Port Key down the street that will take us to a phone booth near headquarters." Bill replied.

Harry was longing to ask the dozens of questions running through his mind, but kept his mouth shut. Last year, he'd been escorted by an entire guard, and they had had to fly all the way to number 12. Why was it that he could now be taken by Portkey with only Bill Weasley to protect him? The only thing Harry could figure was that the whole process had been made much easier with cooperation from the ministry; he hoped he would have the opportunity to learn just what they'd done to try and make up for their negligence in the past.

Soon, they were standing in the same alleyway where Harry had been attacked just before fifth year, and Bill was searching through the Dumpster for the portkey. He reemerged seconds later with a half-eaten sandwich, and extended it to Harry. Harry looked at it apprehensively, nose crinkled in disgust. The second he'd grabbed hold of it, he felt a familiar jerk behind his navel, and they were on their way.

Just as Bill had promised, they were soon sitting in a telephone booth just around the corner from 12 Grimmauld place.

"So," Bill said, placing a silencing ward on the booth. "Before we get to headquarters, where you'll be pleased to know Snape is at the moment," He added in obvious irony, "What exactly did you do to make him so angry?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "What, he didn't already tell you?"

"Well," Bill started, "He came in ranting and raving to Dumbledore, and naturally made a huge deal out of it, as he usually does, but I figured I would get a more truthful account of the events from you."

Harry allowed himself a small smile, and decided that Bill was just every bit as cool as he seemed. He then gave him a full and "truthful account of the events," just as he had asked. When he finished, Bill smiled and held out his hand.

"Now that is thinking smart." He said, shaking Harry's hand. "And the funny thing is, that's just what Snape would've done."

Harry nodded with a scoff. "Yeah, well, what can you expect?"

"Not a lot." Bill said, lifting the silence and opening up the phone booth door. "I had Snape as a teacher all the years I was at Hogwarts. Believe me, I know it's no picnic. Good man, though." He added as an after-thought.

Harry gave him a dubious look, but said nothing. They had soon arrived at the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place, and had shortly entered.

Harry had barely stepped in the door when he heard squealing and was suddenly attacked by a very excited Hermione Granger. She held onto him for a moment, and then stepped back to look at him.

"You've not grown!" were the first words out of her mouth. Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and then saw the reason for her surprise. Ron was walking up behind her, and he had grown quite a bit. Strangely, he'd lost much of his awkwardness. He stood much taller, and seemed to have filled out a bit. Harry had an idea that he'd been trying to tone up for sixth year Quidditch. If there was one year that they would be determined to beat the Slytherins, and Malfoy in particular, this was the one.

"Hey Harry," Ron said, giving Harry a bright smile. "We were hoping you'd be coming soon. We were—" Ron was interrupted by a very loud crash coming from the kitchen, and then Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"Now, really, Severus, I understand you're upset, but you could practice a little more care. Honestly…"

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, and Hermione turned to Harry. "Why don't you come upstairs and drop your stuff?" She asked. Ron followed her lead.

"Yes, and I must show you my new broom kit. It's spectacular…"

They each grabbed one of Harry's arms and led him up the stairs. Once they were safely locked in the room, they turned to Harry.

Hermione had a very stern look on her face, showing no signs of amusement. Ron, however, was chuckling, his freckly cheeks cheerily wrinkled on his face.

"What did you do?" Ron asked.

"Was he really that angry?" said Harry.

"Yes, Harry." Hermione said, not the smallest trace of a smile on her face. "I mean, I'm sure you wanted to get out of there, but don't you think that was a bit much?"

"Oh, come off it Hermione! You know Snape's never rational, that's why even Dumbledore didn't go along with him."

"Why?" Harry interjected. "What exactly did he say?"

"Well," Ron said, smile fading. "He started by talking about how you just barely restrained yourself when Dudley and his friends simply entered the yard—"

Harry's jaw dropped. "I did a very good job restraining myself, thank you very much, and they were threatening me!"

"Harry," Hermione hissed, "keep it down."

Harry frowned, but shut his mouth.

"Then," Ron went on, "He told Dumbledore how Malfoy had come to give you a warning, and you'd met it with a very hostile attitude,"

Harry opened and closed his mouth, looking as though he were about to object again. Ron held up a hand. "Hang on, mate, let me finish. Then he went on about how you'd started shouting things at the top of your lungs, and if he hadn't been there you probably would've spilled all the order's secrets."

Harry's anger was intensifying. Snape had clearly done his best to distort and over-exaggerate everything. But Harry thought he had been very clever, and very cautious. He hadn't put anyone at risk, and Snape knew it.

Ron continued. "Then, he continued to rant about how when he tried to point out how dangerous it had been and instruct you to exercise more caution in the future, you'd started yelling at him and saying that you refused to take this kind of advice from a Death Eater." Ron finished.

There was a short silence; Harry blinked several times, standing there in shock. Then, he started slowly. "And he said this to…"

"Dumbledore, but Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Ron, McGonagall, and I were in the room at the time." Hermione said tentatively. "But Harry, is it true?"

"Well of course not!" Harry spat. "Typically, every single detail of our conversation was manipulated to make me come off as the bad guy." He paused. "Did Dumbledore believe him?"

"Not sure." Ron said. "Bill volunteered to go get you, and Dumbledore looked furious. He asked to speak to Snape alone, and we don't know what went on. Dumbledore kept him for about forty minutes. That was why we hurried you up the stairs; Snape had just finished speaking with him."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. He then opened his mouth, about to explain everything, when there was a knock on the door. Hermione jumped up to open it, and Albus Dumbledore was standing there, a firm look on his face.

"I need to speak with Harry." He said. "If you wouldn't mind, I think this would be a good place for a private word."

Hermione didn't say anything, she simply nodded and signaled Ron to follow her. They left the room quietly, giving Harry looks of sympathy as they did so.

Dumbledore shut the door after them, and turned back to Harry. His eyes didn't have their usual sparkle, and he looked very serious. He sat down in the chair across the room from where Harry was seated on the bed.

"So, Harry," He started quietly, "Do you want to tell me exactly what happened back at Privet Drive?"

Harry immediately began to object to Snape's claims. "Professor, Ron and Hermione told me everything that Snape said, and none of it is true! He completely—"

Dumbledore held up a silencing hand. "Harry, I asked you to tell me what happened. I have no interest in hearing your accusations of _Professor _Snape. Now, is it not true that you threatened those boys who came into your backyard?"

"Yes, but—"

"And when Mr. Malfoy came, did you not pull out your wand and meet him with a hostile disposition?"

"_Yes, but—"_

"And when Professor Snape spoke to you in the house, did you not become angry with him and point out the fact that he has broken a fair number of rules himself?"

"YES! But—"

"Well, then, you can hardly say that nothing he said was true. Now, since we've clarified that these things did occur, I'm interested in hearing your version of _how _they occurred."

Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering what was going on in his head. He then launched into a full rendition of his part of the story, and five minutes later, Dumbledore was surveying him carefully over his half-moon spectacles.

"Professor," Harry said. "You have to believe me. I may have lost control of my temper, but certainly not to the extent Snape said I did."

"Ok," Dumbledore said, nodding. This surprised Harry.

"But I must tell you, Harry, that while I am proud that you put so much consideration into your actions, you do need to be more respectful of your professor. He is owed that consideration by you. I'm not saying his behavior was anymore appropriate, but since he is the adult, you have to listen to him. I had a word with him about his behavior, and this is my word to you about yours. Please, for all our sakes, you two have to put aside some of your contempt for one another. This is the order you two are starting to affect. You didn't learn the Occlumency last year,"

"That wasn't entirely my fault!" Harry exclaimed defensively. "He didn't even try to teach me, and then he threw me out—"

"And he shouldn't have, but you did invade his privacy. And you didn't practice, or really try very hard, did you?"

Harry thought for a moment, and though he wouldn't admit it, he decided Dumbledore was right.

Dumbledore nodded. "I need you to apply yourself Harry. You will be starting lessons with Professor Snape again this year—"

"Occlumency lessons?" Harry asked in disbelief. "Why him? Why not you?"

"We've been over this Harry. It really is a risk, allowing you that kind of access to my mind. Voldemort can sense me; he realized I was there at the ministry last year. Also, I'm gone more often than Severus is. Our schedule would be too inconsistent. I'm always available to talk, but I can't always be there for hours at a time. Severus can; Voldemort allows him to stay at Hogwarts most of the time to avoid making me suspicious, and I allow him to stay at Hogwarts for the same reason. And yes" He said, seeing the look on Harry's face, "I do still trust him."

"But why?" Harry said. "And how?"

"I have my reasons." Dumbledore said very quietly. "So, will you promise to try a little harder to get along with him?"

Harry hesitated, and then grudgingly nodded.

"And you'll put some effort into learning what he teaches you?"

Harry nodded, staring hard at the floor.

"Thank you." Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "Oh, and I thought you'd be wanting these."

Harry looked up, and Dumbledore was holding an envelope in his hand, the old twinkle had found its way back into his eyes. Harry took the envelope and opened it. They were his O.W.L. scores. He looked back up at Dumbledore, who smiled at him, and left the room with a reassuring nod.

Harry looked back down at the tri-folded pieces of paper in his hands, and slowly opened them. He looked down at the first piece of paper. It held his History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy scores. History of Magic was a good grade; he had an E (he supposed they must have graded him based upon the questions he had managed to answer). He didn't bother reading the comments; he would do that later. He had barely scraped an A in Divination, but he didn't care, he planned on dropping it this year anyways. He was sure that they had graded on a curve for Astronomy, because he had an A, and he hadn't had any founded excuse for not finishing.

He went on to the next paper. It displayed his Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, and Herbology scores. He'd managed an E in Transfiguration, which he was very proud of due to the fact that it was such a difficult subject. He had an O in Care of Magical Creatures, which brought a huge smile to his face. He hoped it would cushion the fall for Hagrid, he had to somehow tell him that he was dropping the class this year. He had another O in Herbology, which he could only credit to all of Hermione's help in that class.

With a smile, he unraveled the next page. This one showed his Defense against the Dark Arts and Charms scores. He wondered why they hadn't been able to put the third subject on there as they'd done on the previous pages, until he looked at all his comments for DADA. He'd earned an O in that subject, with many positive comments on his skills. He read them over, and smiled to himself. Someone had recommended that he enter the aurors program… perhaps he would. He'd also received an O in charms, which he could hardly believe.

Harry unfurled the last page with some trepidation; there was only one score left. Potions. He opened it up, and with one glance at his score, his jaw dropped. He had received an O… and at the bottom of the page was a personal note from McGonagall.

_Potter,_

_Congratulations! You have met all the requirements for the classes needed to qualify for the aurors program. I have taken the liberty of putting all of the classes down that you need, and you may choose which electives to take. You'll notice a new list of options is on there, and I've made notes next to my recommendations. Congratulations again, you did it!_

_Professor Minerva McGonagall_

Harry had made it into Snape's potions class… He sat there in utter shock.

"I don't believe it." He said to himself.


	4. Preparation

Chapter 4

Preparation

xxx

A relatively uneventful week had passed at 12 Grimmauld Place. Much to Harry's surprise, and equally to his concern, there were few order members spending time at the small house. During the time he had spent locked away at the Dursleys', he had imagined multiple meetings of interest taking place here. He had envisioned Ron and Hermione witnessing a plethora of interesting events, and had hoped in vain for word of them by owl. He had been positive that he had been done a terrible disservice while he was kept from all these things. What he now saw, however, was that a majority of the interesting events happening were certainly not happening within these walls. In addition to the lack of traffic in and out of the headquarters, both Snape and Dumbledore had been away the entire week.

Truth be told, Harry didn't mind. Snape, he could easily do without.

After his last encounter with the irascible Potions Master, Harry was now trying to work out how he could effectively avoid the man for the remainder of the summer. This involved a great deal of leaving Grimmauld Place for whatever reason he could come up with, combined with sending his friends to do reconnaissance whenever there was a slam of the front door.

Even Dumbledore, Harry felt he could do without for the moment. Normally, he wouldn't have minded Dumbledore's presence. At this point in time, however, the last person he wanted wandering the halls of his current residence was someone who could, as the phrase goes, read him like a book. It wasn't that Harry was hiding anything, per se, but it was bad enough trying to convince his friends that he was fine. When it came to the Headmaster, Harry seriously doubted his ability to stare into those damned twinkling, understanding blue eyes and insist that he wasn't suffering.

And if there was one thing that Harry was, it was certainly suffering.

Staying at Number 12 without Sirius had been an ever-present plague on his conscious mind. The place was little more than a harsh reminder of Sirius's absence; the halls which Harry had once walked with his Godfather were now often empty. When the doorbell rang and Mrs. Black started her screeching, Harry's memories of Sirius darting up the stairs to promptly silence her were replaced by those of Mrs. Weasley's slightly less amusing efforts. As much as he appreciated being away from the Dursleys, the memories that lingered in this dark and dingy building were almost worse than anything he would have endured there.

There was a part of Harry that had to scoff at his own weakness. It wasn't as though he was a stranger to grief; truthfully, he felt that by now, he should have been strong enough to accept the loss of his Godfather with grace. After all, he had endured many losses throughout his life. He had lived his entire life without the comfort of a parent to guide him. He had watched a fellow classmate drop dead on his account. He had been scorned by teachers and the public alike, falsely accused and punished on various occasions. No, Harry's life had never been a walk in the park; so why was he so strongly affected by what seemed to be just another event to add to a long list of tragedies?

Despite all that had transpired in what felt like an extremely long sixteen years, Harry still could not hinder the feelings of extreme loss that haunted his thoughts. At the end of the day, it was the promise of something that resembled a true family, and the idea that it had been so quickly extinguished, that upset Harry the most. It wasn't until he envisioned what his life could have become that he truly felt the pain that accompanied the expected sadness. Sirius had been the closest thing to a father Harry had ever really experienced… and now he was gone.

Harry did his best to keep himself busy, trying to distract himself from his melancholy thoughts. He had no interest in sharing his feelings with others, and the best way to keep them from asking questions was to behave as though nothing was wrong. For this reason, he had been extremely grateful for the Weasleys' company this week. Though they were not at the headquarters every day, Harry spent much of his time visiting at the Burrow when they were unable to be with him at Grimmauld Place. Dumbledore had specified that he stay where he had the most protection, but with Mrs. Weasley's support, he had won the right to at least leave the building, provided he was going to a safe location. It was a welcome distraction, having them around, and Harry was not above clinging to the small support system their family provided. Mrs. Weasley's constant fussing was a far cry from the treatment he was used to from his own Aunt, and this was not a change Harry at all minded. Aunt Petunia had never cared that his clothes didn't fit right, or that his school uniforms were becoming too short. Mrs. Weasley always made a point to find something to coddle him over… and sometimes Harry was quite pleased with the motherly attention.

Of course, Mrs. Weasley was not the only one who provided a pleasant distraction. As usual, Mr. Weasley had badgered him with as many possible questions about Muggles as he could think of, but Harry found this amusing and obligingly answered all of them. Just the other day, he'd had a long conversation with him about the use of toasters. It was amazing how little it took to amuse the man; he'd run around trying to get everyone as excited as he was about this "ingenious invention."

The one thing that was missing was the presence of Fred and George. They always brought such light-heartedness to the atmosphere, and the laughter their mere presence seemed to induce was a gift far better than anything material one could desire. According to Ron, however, they'd started a joke shop business in Diagon Alley as they'd always planned. They couldn't leave due to the fact that school would be starting soon. With all the children in Diagon Alley, it was sure to be a busy few weeks: a regular gold mine. Mrs. Weasley was apparently torn between pride and disapproval; they were doing very well for themselves, but they were doing so in a way she'd been discouraging since the idea had first emerged.

Ginny was the only other Weasley child that was still around most of the time, and as a result, she spent much of her time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Really, though, they didn't mind. She'd grown up quite a bit, and now seemed much more like a peer than a kid sister. She'd played a few games of Quidditch with them, and she, like Ron, had become very good. Harry was glad; he'd been worrying that the Quidditch team would be a failure this year since so many of the players had left Hogwarts. He now knew that they did have at least a few talented players, which certainly put him at ease about the whole thing.

They'd also written many letters to Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood, who'd stayed in touch over the summer. As proved true through all their years of schooling, it's hard to save one another from the jaws of death and avoid becoming friends.

Yes, Harry counted himself as lucky to continually be surrounded by such friends. Lucky until, of course, Harry was shaken from a peaceful sleep by the sound of Ron shouting his name. He opened his tired eyes, which immediately threatened to close again at the first sign of light, and looked up at his tall, red-headed friend.

"Isn't the R supposed to be in the front, Ron?" He yawned, making reference to Ron's Weasley sweater, which he had put on backwards.

"Oh, right," Ron said sheepishly, turning his sweater around. Clearing his throat as he did so, he told Harry, "Sorry mate, but Mum sent me to wake you. We're all going to Diagon Alley to get our school supplies today; we rather thought you'd like to get out of the house again. You can come to the burrow after, too."

At this, Harry sat up a little. He fumbled around on the night stand before coming across his spectacles and placing them atop the bridge of his nose. "Right," he said, voice raspy. "Let me get dressed, I'll meet you downstairs."

"Sure," replied Ron, already heading for the door. "And wear something warm, it's raining."

"Yeah, fine," Harry muttered, rolling over. He was tired, and he didn't especially feel like getting up. With some effort, Harry pushed his coverlet back and swung his legs over the side of the bed, hissing at the coolness of the morning air. He was soon pulling on his trousers and finding his way into his jumper, which seemed slightly bigger than it had been the previous year. Looking down at it, Harry shrugged to himself, and after flattening his hair over his forehead a few times, left the room.

The inviting aroma of eggs and bacon instantly greeted Harry as he entered the kitchen and he was reminded of how deeply he loved Mrs. Weasley's cooking. A grin spreading across his cheeks as he approached the table, he noticed that Ron and Hermione had the post before them. Stepping a little closer, he could see that Hermione was pouring over their class schedules.

"Morning, Harry," Hermione said absently, extending his own stack of post to him.

Harry thanked her and sat down across from the two of them and was struck by the difference in their expressions; in moments like these, it could not be more obvious how different his friends were. While Hermione seemed delighted at the prospect of the beginning of another year, Ron's face had drooped into an unattractive frown, his hair tousled—a sure sign that he had been, out of pure frustration, burying his fists in it moments before.

Harry looked from his friends back down the parchment in his hands. Brow wrinkling just slightly, he unfolded it and looked it over. He, like Ron and Hermione, had dropped Care of Magical Creatures and Divination. He was still worried about how Hagrid would take this, but then, he didn't know when he would see Hagrid again. He was awfully busy; he'd only sent one letter to Harry over the summer, and it had been very short (not unlike Harry's other mail).

There were many new classes being offered, and their schedules were must busier than previous years. Within no time, Hermione had worked out exactly when they would be able to meet to do homework together, and whether or not Ron and Harry would have time for Quidditch.

According to Ron, there was always time for Quidditch.

Shortly after they'd finished breakfast, Mrs. Weasley was piloting them to the fireplace; they were to floo to Diagon Alley.

"Mum, what's the rush?" Ron grumbled with an unattractively childish quality to his tone, his irritation owed to the fact that his mother was smoothing the wrinkles from his robes much like one might do to a small child.

"Now, don't you take that tone with me," Mrs. Weasley admonished, steering him towards the fireplace. "We've a lot to accomplish before the day ends."

"Is that why you went to Gringotts for us ahead of time?" Ron asked, holding up his own measly sack of galleons and wincing slightly at the size of it.

"Well, there's no use in dawdling, now is there?"

Ron rolled his eyes and directed his expression of annoyance in Harry's direction. Mrs. Weasley huffed slightly and redirected his face towards her own, and repeated, "Is there?"

"No," Ron replied dutifully, this time refraining from rolling his eyes.

"That's a good boy," his mother said approvingly, tapping him on the cheek and ignoring Ginny's giggles from behind. "Now, you first."

Ron seemed only too happy to hop into the fireplace, away from the woman who was certainly the cause of the deep colouration in his face. He shouted his destination and was promptly removed from the Weasley residence, sent away in a burst of tumultuous flame.

The other three children soon followed suit, with Mrs. Weasley seeing every one of them through before finally taking the trip herself.

"Alright," said Mrs. Weasley as she stepped from the fireplace, brushing off her flower covered knitted dress. "Ron, Harry, and Hermione, you have a whole list of shops that Ginny doesn't, so _if you promise_to stick together and to go only to those on the list… I will let you go alone while I take her where she needs to go."

"She could just come with us, it's no trouble," Hermione offered, reading the clearly pained expression on Ginny's face as a cry for help.

Mrs. Weasley, however, would have none of it. "Absolutely not," she said briskly, shaking her head at once. "Thank you, Hermione, but Ginny is far too young to be traipsing around Diagon Alley without an adult."

"I'm right here," Ginny said, waving a hand around in front of her mother's face. Mrs. Weasley gave her a chastising look and batted her hand away.

"You're only fifteen," she reminded her daughter.

"Thanks, I'd forgotten that," Ginny mumbled, jumping quickly out of the way when her mother reached for her again.

"Ginevra Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley all but shouted, a look of infuriation quickly rising on her face.

"Fine, fine!" Ginny conceded, clearly more threatened by Mrs. Weasley's rising temper than her physical proximity. "Just go, you lot, I'll see you later."

Though all three felt sympathy for Ginny, it was clear that Mrs. Weasley was not going to relent.

"Alright, see you, Gin," said Ron, avoiding his mother's eyes as he gave her an understanding smile.

"Yeah, bye Ginny" Harry added, turning to follow Ron as the other boy began to retreat.

"Not so fast, you three!" Mrs. Weasley called out after them, just as they had gone about three paces. They turned around questioningly, and she explained, "I've still not given you all your instructions."

"Oh," Ron said rather lamely, leading Harry and Hermione back to where his mother stood.

"Now," started Mrs. Weasley, folding her hands in front of her and beginning to rattle of instructions as if she had already made a list of them, "You're not to go anywhere except the places that hold the items specify on your lists. You are to accept no offers of anything from anyone. In fact, don't even talk to anyone unless you know exactly who they are to begin with. No Knockturn Alley, no dark corner venues; I don't care what the reason is, if I find you've been anywhere unseemly, you've all had it. And lastly, you are to meet us back here at noon, at which point we will get back to the burrow. I expect you can have all your shopping done by then?"

"I'm sure that will be an ample amount of time," Hermione told her smilingly—almost phonily so—as Harry and Ron exchanged looks behind her back.

"Good," Mrs. Weasley responded, satisfied with this response and apparently oblivious to the fact that Hermione's smile was already faltering. "Come along, Ginny."

With that, Mrs. Weasley led the way down the moderately populated street, giving Ginny no choice but to trail after her. Throwing her head over her shoulder, the red headed girl gave the trio one last roll of the eyes before running to catch up with her mother, getting lost in the crowd as they went on.

"What was that, Hermione?" Ron asked sceptically as they began walking in the opposite direction.

"Your mother deserves respect, Ron," she responded automatically. "Whether or not we think it's silly that she's just told us, in essentials, that we ought not to take sweets from strangers when we are three respon—well, one responsible sixteen year old and two moderately sensible boys—she at least deserves our cooperation.

"I resent that, you know," Harry joked, aiming a dark look in Hermione's direction. "I'm very responsible."

Hermione's only response was to scoff in good humour and lead the way into the nearest bookshop.

"What did she mean, don't take sweets from strangers, anyway?" Ron asked in a low voice as they followed her in.

"Muggle thing," Harry explained, watching Hermione go to work the instant they were inside. He stayed where he was, standing off to the side of the door with Ron. Hermione knew her way around a bookshop well enough, even if it wasn't her preferred Flourish and Blotts. "Often offer children sweets as a means to abduct them; it's horrible, but it happens."

"You don't say?" questioned Ron, looking mildly horrified yet mildly perplexed by the idea.

"I do say. And my, she's quick!" he exclaimed as Hermione quickly returned with six books, her expression a mixture of indignation that they had not come to claim their own books and discomfort from their weight.

"Thanks very much, you two," she complained as they took their books off the stack, looking apologetic.

"Didn't realise they'd be so heavy," Ron admitted, shrugging.

Hermione gave Ron a dirty look as if to tell him that this was simply not the point she was trying to make, but he didn't seem to get it. Letting out a huff, she turned and headed towards the register, unaware when Harry gave Ron a smack over the head in her favour.

"One copy of _Striking the Enemy_," muttered the shopkeeper to himself as he wrote down the price on a muggle pad of paper in front of him. Hermione gave it an odd look and glanced at Harry, who simply shrugged. "And… one of _The Legal Guide to Offensive Magic_. Alright, Miss, your total today comes to twelve galleons."

The load groan elicited from Ron at hearing the total went tactfully unnoticed by all but the shopkeeper, who gave him a look similar to the one Hermione had given him upon seeing his pad of paper.

As quickly as they had come, the trio left the bookshop again, in search of everything else that had a place on their lists. All the items from quills to parchment to Potions ingredients where required, but it did not take the three long to complete their tasks. Shopping before the start of term had become a regular experience over the past six years, and little effort was required to find most of what they would need for the year. In fact, the longest visit they paid was to the Apothecary, which Ron found quite annoying since he had decided to forego this year of Potions. "Another year with Snape? When I have a choice?" Ron had questioned incredulously. "Never!"

Harry thought he had a valid point.

The last thing on their lists was a pair of duelling robes, for which they visited Madame Malkin's. Mounted on display in the very back of the store were long black robes with silver embroidery decorating the edges. Hermione was the first to spot them, and alerted the boys with a gasp.

"Oh, they're beautiful," she said in awe, instantly moving towards them to assail the edges with her fingertips. Hermione was not a vain girl; her excitement was explicable—these were much nicer than their standard Hogwarts robes. "It's a shame I didn't take Magic on the Offence… I would have so liked to wear these."

Ron, however, gazed at the display apprehensively, hand unconsciously moving towards his pocket, which Harry knew held the little money he had. "How much are they?" Ron asked in a would-be casual way, if not for the clear doubt written in his face.

Harry walked over to them and lifted the tag. Each robe was thirty-four galleons, much more than Ron would be able to afford.

"Uh, only fourteen galleons, Ron," Harry lied, hoping he sounded surprised.

"Wow, really?" Ron asked in amazement, though he did not wait for a response from Harry to continue. "Grab me a long one and we'll go get them fitted," he said, before turning and heading towards the fitting area.

Harry grabbed two robes and followed, wondering just how he would get the money to Madam Malkin without Ron noticing. Luckily for him, she was just about to walk into the fitting area when Harry caught her.

"Excuse me, Madam," he greeted her politely, "but I wonder if I could ask a favour?"

"Depends on what sort," she replied, lifting a thin eyebrow.

"Well, you see, I don't think my friend has enough money for duelling robes-"

"I can't do any of those favours, Mr. Potter," she chastised him condescendingly, wagging her finger and moving to turn away.

"Oh, no—I mean—I know," Harry rushed on, stepping after her. "But I was just wondering if I could give you twenty galleons now, and you could tell him that the robes only cost fourteen. Oh, and I'll give you my thirty too, so that the prices are the same," he said in a hushed voice, seeing Ron looking over at them with interest.

It was clear that Madame Malkin had no idea why one would do such a thing. She eyed Harry with scrutiny, giving him an opportunity to turn his determined expression into one of pleading. As he had hoped, she relented after a moment, shaking her head and muttering, "Oh, I suppose."

"Thank you," Harry breathed, exhaling his relief and discretely handing her the sum of sixty galleons.

From behind, Hermione watched with disapproval, but had the discretion not to say anything.

Noon had happened upon them more quickly than they had thought, they realised as they stepped out of the robes shop and checked the time. Wisely reluctant to be late, they instantly set to work finding Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. The two weren't difficult to locate in the crowd; their flaming red hair was easy to spot.

"I was just getting worried," Mrs. Weasley said as they approached, stepping forward to wave them off the street, which was becoming busier as the day went on.

"They're fifteen minutes early, Mum," Ginny reminded her flatly. Her expression was tired and filled with annoyance; she'd clearly had her fill of Mrs. Weasley's mollycoddling.

"I'm telling you for the last time, Ginevra, stop your back talking!"

"Sorry," Ginny grumbled, shaking her head just slightly.

"Well," said Harry after a moment, attempting to loosen the tension that was developing, "I don't know about all of you, but officially tired of Diagon Alley!"

"Of course, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, her expression instantly softening as she turned her attention on him. "But… there has been a slight change of plans."

"A… good change of plans?"

"I'm afraid not," Mrs. Weasley replied, shaking her head mournfully.

"Oh," Harry responded, expression falling. "Well… what, then?"

"Harry," Mrs. Weasley started, patting his shoulder sympathetically, "I did try to talk him out of it, but Professor Dumbledore insists that you spend the remainder of the holiday at Hogwarts."

"What?" Harry exclaimed indignantly. "Why?"

"Professor Dumbledore wouldn't tell us," she said hurriedly. "He only told me that he wanted me to bring you there as soon as you returned. Oh dear, I'm sorry."

"When did all this happen?" Ginny asked, suddenly confused at why she had not witnessed this occurrence.

"I spoke to a member of the Order while you were collecting your books," Mrs. Weasley answered in a low voice, as not to be overheard.

"Who?"

"I really cannot say," said Mrs. Weasley with one definitive shake of her head. "But you know, Harry, that I would let you stay the entire holiday if you could. We love to have you visit."

Harry just nodded. He was too busy trying to comprehend what he had just been told. He'd been so glad to go from the Dursleys' to the Weasleys'… it was a bit bitter that his happiness was to be so short-lived. Why, for once in his life, couldn't things just be simpler?

xxx end chapter 4 xxx

AN: Has been edited since its first posting, and will be edited again.


	5. A Sickening Realization

Chapter 5

A Sickening Realization

Severus Snape headed towards the headmasters office in hurry. He had just come from a Death Eaters meeting, and learned some very disturbing news.

The Dark Lord had a plan for Harry Potter… and it involved more horror than the boy's death.

The cloaked man arrived at the statue and muttered the password before hurriedly rising to the upper level. He came to the door and knocked, not sure if the headmaster would hear this. After waiting a few moments, it was apparent that the old wizard was sleeping, and Severus would have to go and knock on the doors to his quarters.

Severus pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Once he was inside, it seemed to him that the headmaster was not asleep; the lights were still on and there was an abundance of books spread from one corner of the office to the other.

Severus stepped closer to the desk, curious as to what the headmaster had been researching. He picked up a book, and raised his eyebrows. It was a book on heritage, and the page was turned to a paragraph on father/son similarities and relationships. Severus set the book down and picked up the one next to it. Again, he was perplexed. The heading of the page read, "Psychology for the Burdened; How to be the Bearer of Bad News."

Severus shook his head and replaced the book; Dumbledore was always meddling in things that he shouldn't. He glanced towards the door to Dumbledore's room; the light was on underneath. Severus decided he would wait a few moments to see if Dumbledore came out on his own, and while he waited, he looked around in curiosity.

His eyes came to rest on Dumbledore's pensieve; it was perched tentatively on the ledge of a shelf. Severus rolled his eyes; the man really ought to be more careful with such rare objects. He got up from the chair he had seated himself in and moved to place the bowl in a more stable place.

He picked up the pensieve, about to move it. Then, something appeared in the silver mist, something that made him freeze in his tracks. It was Lily. His Lily— no, _Potter's_ Lily. She had tears running down her face, and Severus could see that she was in Dumbledore's office, talking to him. His lip curled in disgust; she was probably speaking to him about her arse of a husband.

Suddenly, her face had appeared at the surface. She was still speaking, but very quietly. Severus made to turn away… but something stopped him. He could see her lips moving, forming around syllables very similar to the ones that formed his own name. He could have sworn he even heard her soft voice saying, "Severus."

Even the disciplined potion's master couldn't turn away from this temptation; after a moment of indecision, he dipped his face beneath the cool surface, and soon found himself transported to the middle of an old memory…

Severus watched himself and Lily, and instantly recognized it as the last night they'd ever civilly spoken.

A younger Snape was standing in his doorway, and Lily was standing on the porch, shivering with cold. Snape smiled down at her, she looked so sweet as she stood there, smiling up at him, teeth chattering a million miles an hour.

"I wasn't expecting you," Snape said, guiding her inside.

"I know," Lily replied happily. "But I have something to tell you, and I've been waiting for you to get home all day."

"Waiting?" Snape inquired, eyebrows raised. "I could have you arrested for stalking me, you know," he said teasingly.

"I'd like to see you try and have your wife arrested for waiting for you at your other home," Lily said, and kissed him lightly on the nose. "I don't think you'd get very far."

The younger Snape smiled at this, and sat her down on the couch. The older Severus watched Lily intently while his younger self poured her a cup of tea. He specifically remembered something changing in her demeanor after this moment, and he had never quite been able to pinpoint exactly what had happened to cause such an abrupt change that night, he could only figure she'd been putting on an act in order to soften him up. But it hadn't worked…

Thenhe saw it. His sleeve had fallen back, and freshly etched into it was the Dark Mark. Severus watched her face; in all the years they'd been together, he'd never seen such a dismayed and hurt expression form around her lovely green eyes.

The younger Snape turned and handed her a cup of tea, and sat down next to her on the couch. She didn't take a sip; she just frowned thoughtfully into the murky hazel liquid, and then set it down on the table in front of her.

"Now," Snape said, not noticing that she wasn't drinking what he'd just fixed for her. "What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Lily looked at him apprehensively for a moment, and then swallowed hard. "You're going to be angry," She said. Her hands had begun to shake.

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why would I be angry?" He asked, somewhat suspiciously.

"Severus," Lily said, kneeling down in front of him and taking his hands. "I want you to always know that I loved you, and never had any intention of hurting you. But a few weeks ago, I made a mistake, and now I have to pay for that."

"What are you—?"

"I slept with James," Lily said hurriedly, closing her eyes in attempt to stop the tears flowing from them.

Silence followed this statement, but within the next sixty seconds, Snape seemed to have found his voice. "What?" he said, in a voice of deadly calm.

"I'm- I'm pregnant," Lily faltered, allowing her head to drop to her hands and sobbing uncontrollably.

The younger Snape blinked in disbelief as he registered what had just been said. Within moments, he was nearly shaking with fury; his face had gone whiter than it normally was, and his lips were nearly the same hue. He rose shakily to his feet.

"Get out," he said suddenly, pointing towards the door.

Lily stopped crying, most likely out of shock. "You're throwing me out?" She asked in disbelief, tears still rolling down her cheeks.

"Get out!" Snape screamed, firmly grabbing her arm and shoving her towards the door. She flew to the floor, and he picked her up again by the back of her shirt, opened the door, and tossed her onto the doorstep.

"Don't ever," he paused to regain control, but his pointing finger was still trembling when he continued his sentence. "-step foot into this home again, you… whore! I trusted you, and you go running off with that arrogant prick James Potter!" He paused, and surveyed her in disgust, lip curling unpleasantly. "You sicken me," He said, and then slammed the door.

The elder Snape had known what was coming. He'd replayed this scene so many times in his head, he practically had it memorized. He'd made his way out into the front garden, in attempt to avoid the rest of the memory, or at least that portion of it .

Lily lay there on the porch for a moment, silently stunned, staring up at the closed door. After the realization of what had just happened set in, she seemed to start into hysterics. She kneeled over and clutched her stomach, silently sobbing, rocking back and forth as if for comfort.

After she'd stayed there for twenty minutes, and finally consoled herself at least enough to calm down, she rose gingerly and stepped off the porch. Severus followed her as she made her way down the street, and when she apparated at the corner, he was transported to the place which she'd headed to. He found himself outside James Potter's old home, and sneered when she started heading towards the door. Perhaps she was going back for sympathy. Or another romp in the hay with his old enemy…

He followed her up to the house, not sure he wanted to find out why she was there.

She shakily raised her small, pale hand, and knocked on the door. The door slowly opened, and James Potter stood, silhouetted against the yellow light shining from inside.

"Lily," He said, opening the door wider, and stepping outside. When he saw that she was crying, he took her into his arms and held her there. "What happened?"

Lily didn't say anything, she only continued sobbing into his shirt. James, seeming to understand that she needed comfort, led her into the house.

From behind, Severus followed with a scowl.

James took Lily into the house, and they sat down on his steps, where he continued to hold her. "We're alone here," He said. "You can tell me what happened."

"James," She said, raising her wilted green eyes to his clouded hazel ones. "I need your help."

"Of course, of course." James said, nodding and soothingly stroking her back. "Just tell me what it is."

"It's Severus-,"

"What did that bastard do to you?" James said, face growing dark.

"No, no… Not like that." Lily said, shaking her head. "I had to lie to him… and I… well, I can't go back, I…" She sputtered incoherently, bursting into tears again.

"Lily, calm down and tell me the story." James said softly, tightening his arms around her.

Lily nodded and took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "I went to his other home tonight. I knew he said he wouldn't be back to see me for a week, and I had to tell him the news."

"And what was this news?" James asked.

"I'm with child." Lily said softly. "And I was so excited; I just couldn't wait to tell him. So I went there, and he showed me inside. But when he was pouring me a cup of tea… his sleeve fell back… and…" another wave of sobs was coming on. "Oh, James, he's become a Death Eater!" She broke into a rush of sobs and tears, coughing into his shirt.

"I can't bring my child into that. I can't put us both in danger. I love Severus… but I have to make this decision. Oh God, James, how could things go so wrong?" She cried.

James only shook his head, not knowing quite what to say. He had never liked Snape, but he knew that Lily loved him, and Lily was his best friend, aside from Sirius.

"I told him," Lily went on, "that I'd slept with you… and that the baby was yours."

James' eyes widened, but still, he stayed silent.

"He threw me out, James." She said quietly. "He literally picked me up and tossed me out of the house." She looked up at him sadly. "He can never know."

Severus jaw dropped. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. This meant he had a child… but the only child that could logically be his was… "Potter," He muttered darkly to himself.

He never found out exactly what had happened further that night, because he felt himself being lifted threw the mist, and soon, he found himself standing on Albus Dumbledore's office floor.

The older man looked at him with concern in his eyes. "What did you see, Severus?"

Severus shook his head angrily. "I think you have a pretty good idea." Severus said softly. "How much have you known?"

"Depends on what you're talking about." Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk.

"Don't play games with me, Albus. I want to know- I want to know- if," Severus couldn't quite get the words out.

"If Harry is your son?" Dumbledore finished for him. Severus nodded. "No, Severus. He is not. That baby died before Lily had even reached second term. Harry was conceived by James."

Severus didn't know whether to be relieved or angry. That meant that his wife- no, she wasn't his wife. They'd signed the divorce papers a week after that had happened, and he never spoke to her again, except for the occasional snide comment or spiteful remark. Nonetheless, it meant that she had slept with his sworn enemy… the one non-evil person he hated almost as much as the Dark Lord.

"Lily begged me never to tell you what had happened." Dumbledore continued. "And I didn't want to cause you further pain…"

"Further—" Severus turned back to the headmaster as he came to a sickening realization. "Albus, when was the baby aborted?"

Dumbledore didn't respond; he only looked down at his hands.

"Albus!" Severus shouted, grabbing the older man by the shoulders and shaking him slightly. "When?"

"I think you know," Dumbledore replied solemnly. "You were very rough with her that night…"

Severus stared at him for a moment, backing away slowly. "It was my fault." Severus said, gazing off to the side. "I- I killed my own child."

Severus let his gaze drop to the floor, and he shook his head. "I have potions to make." He said after a moment. "Full moon approaching…"

Albus Dumbledore watched as the desolated man left his office, and thanked Merlin that Severus hadn't gotten to the part of the memory where Lily had been speaking to himself…

AN: I apologize for the shortness.


	6. Bird of Prey

Chapter 6

Bird of Prey

Authors notes at end of chapter

Harry Potter dropped his trunks in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and cheerlessly looked around. The room appeared unchanged from the previous year, but there was an eeriness about it that had never been present when it was capacitated by noisy students.

Ron and Hermione had said their goodbyes in the Great Hall only minutes before, and Harry was almost relieved that they'd finally gone. It wasn't that he didn't want to be with them; if he'd had his choice, he would have spent the rest of the summer helping them finish the cleanup work at 12 Grimmauld Place- even if it meant he'd have to think about Sirius, at least he wouldn't be alone. But knowing that they were headed back there together whilst Harry was being forced to stay at Hogwarts, lonely and miserable, put him in a very disagreeable mood, and he was grateful that he would no longer have put on a happy face for their sakes. Alone, he was at able to drop his falsely cheery manner and sulk just as much as he wanted to.

With one more glance around the familiar maroon and gold room, Harry gloomily picked up the suitcases that were sitting at his feet and began to trudge up the stairs, now fully grasping, with great foreboding, just how high the tower stretched. He'd barely reached the sixth step when he started to wonder why no one had thought to put in moving staircases like the ones leading up to Dumbledore's office, and wished he'd let Mrs. Weasley escort him like she'd offered; perhaps she could have cast a Feather Light Charm on his suitcase to make it easier to lift.

As he was considering these thoughts, there came a loud, high-pitched voice from behind him and he gave a start, whirling around to see Dobby standing there with an expectant grin stretched across his face. His large, bat-like ears were perked up like those of a dog being given a biscuit and his long, pointed nose did little to help that image. On each foot, he wore a different sock; today, one was a shocking lemon color and had equally florescent shades of blue and pink banded in stripes around the toe. The other was black and patterned with great snowy owls greatly resembling Hedwig swooping from tree to tree, stars glittering behind them as they went. He wore a mixture of the garments he'd collected over time, the most noticeable perhaps being a short vest which looked to Harry as though it were fashioned to suit a monkey, and atop his head sat three of the lumpy, barely recognizable hats which Hermione had knitted the previous year.

"Mr. Harry Potter, sir!" He cried, rushing forward to grab Harry's bags. "Harry Potter should not be lifting such heavy things, sir. That is what Dobby is here to do, sir!"

"Hello, Dobby." Harry replied, giving a half-hearted attempt at a warm smile.

"How is being your holiday, sir?" Dobby asked brightly, levitating the suitcases and following them up the stairs.

"Can't complain," Harry said dismissively as he trailed after Dobby, feeling he'd rather not discuss the events of his dreadful summer. "How was yours?"

"Harry Potter is always being so courteous." Dobby said admirably as he guided the trunks into the dormitory room. "Dobby has enjoyed his holiday, though he very much misses the company of young masters as yourself."

"How's Winky?" Harry asked blandly, remembering her condition prior to the end of term and the reason she'd been so miserable.

"Oh," said Dobby, his ears drooping slightly. "She won't talk to Dobby anymore. Says he is a bad elf- but Dobby knows better. Dobby knows she is being depressed, and not very happy since she's stopped drinking."

"Well, there's a bright side." Harry said, pulling back the crimson curtains on one of the four-post beds and sitting himself on it.

"The school year is nearly here." Dobby pointed out, waving his hand to put Harry's things away. "Harry Potter is excited to see his friends?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry replied sarcastically. "It'll be great."

Dobby seemed to pick-up on his insincerity.

"Why is Harry Potter being sad?" Dobby asked, lifting himself up onto the bed next to Harry. "His friends not being friendly?"

"Not that, Dobby." Harry answered sullenly. He paused for a minute, and then elaborated. "Just, every year something happens, and every year, I end up miserable at one time or another…"

"And Sirius Black is gone, which makes Harry Potter feel worse?" Dobby questioned.

"Yeah." Harry said, looking at the floor.

Dobby reached up and patted Harry on the shoulder. "Cheer up, sir! Things will be better, Harry Potter is a hero!"

"Yeah," Harry said darkly, "people keep saying that."

xxx

Down in the torch-lit dungeons, Dumbledore knocked for the second time on the Potions Master's door, intent on speaking with him. He waited a brief moment for a reply, but received none; he cautiously pushed the stone door open and stepped inside.

Severus was standing with his back to the door, leaning over a cauldron and adding ingredients with focused precision. He gave no indication that he had noticed the headmaster.

"Severus?" Dumbledore said quietly, stepping forward.

Severus' shoulder slumped slightly in exasperation, then tensed again. "Yes?" he growled irritably.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and reminded himself of the reason for Severus' bad mood. "Harry has just arrived."

"Oh joy, I must run up and greet him," Severus replied flatly.

"I wondered when you might be willing to restart Occlumency lessons with him," Dumbledore said, ignoring Severus' sarcasm.

"Albus, I will never be _willing _to do anything short of murdering that boy," Severus said, now filling the vials with his perfected potion.

"Severus, don't be difficult," Dumbledore said, stepping around the table for a face-to-face conversation.

"I'm not being difficult, Albus, I'm being truthful," Severus retorted, now corking each of the equally filled bottles.

"Is today too soon?" asked Dumbledore as Severus took a sip of the tea he had sitting on his desk.

Severus nearly choked on his lemon-flavored liquid. "Today?" He exclaimed. Then regaining his composure, he said irritably, "Yes, today is too soon."

As if he wanted to risk the boy seeing what he'd learned the previous night. Honestly, one would think that someone as "insightful" as Dumbledore would recognize that all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Well, tomorrow then?" Dumbledore persisted. "I wouldn't even ask if it weren't for the urgency of the situation. I read your report, and you must agree that no cautionary measures can be put off."

Severus hesitated. He hadn't thought of the report he'd delivered just a day ago.

"Fine, headmaster," He finally said. "Tomorrow. Tell the boy to be here at five o' clock in the evening, and not to be late."

"Thank you, Severus," Dumbledore said sincerely.

And he went on his way.

Severus watched him go, his face set in a dark stare. He was mortally exhausted, he hadn't slept since the previous night, and it was already one o' clock in the afternoon. All he'd been able to do was work on his potions; his mind was too busy to allow himself to sleep.

It was though a scratched record with his least favorite song was planted in his head- _how could I have done this? How can I even live with myself? _The same questions were mentally repeating themselves over and over again- and he was doomed to listen to the same track for the rest of his life.

xxx

It was still early in the evening, and the fragmented light streaming through the windows danced across Harry's parchment, making it difficult for him to concentrate. He was seated snugly on the common room couch; the Potions essay he'd been putting off all summer was spread across the book he was holding on his knees. He hardly cared about the properties of the Arborvitae plant and the effects of its combination with members of the Rue family- he really didn't, so it took very little distraction for his attention to wane. Leave it to Snape to set the world's most boring and difficult essay over break; if only Hermione were there…

Harry was sitting on the common room couch, finishing the potions essay he'd been putting off all summer, when Dumbledore came in.

"Hello, Harry." Dumbledore said, settling into the chair sitting across from Harry. "Are you all unpacked already?"

"Yes, Dobby came and helped me. Or rather, did it for me," Harry added.

"Good, good," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, why I came to see you."

Harry looked up from his parchment, and set his quill down.

Dumbledore wished he would look back down, his green eyes were piercing him like a dagger, accusing him of the statement he had not yet uttered.

"I've spoken with Professor Snape, and you will resume occlumency lessons with him tomorrow, at five o' clock," Dumbledore said, standing up to break eye contact.

To Dumbledore's great surprise, Harry did not react. His face fell slightly, but it was as if he had been expecting to be told this.

"Alright," Harry said quietly, going back to his essay.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, after a moment of apprehension. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine, and you?" Harry replied stiffly, applying quill to parchment with far more fervor than was necessary.

"I meant, how are you feeling, in relation to… everything that has been happening?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he mumbled irritably.

"I know things are still going to be difficult for you for awhile," Dumbledore said. "But just try to remember that you are surrounded by people who love and care for you. You're not alone, Harry. Don't seclude yourself from everyone who makes an attempt to help you; that never got anyone very far."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't even look up. After a few minutes, Dumbledore came and patted him on the shoulder.

"I'm going to leave now, Harry," He said. "I will be up in my office if you need me. Don't forget about your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape tomorrow, at five o' clock." With that, Dumbledore turned and left, leaving Harry alone in the common room.

Harry tried with all his might to focus his attention on his Potion's essay, but it was no use. He couldn't suppress all of the emotions he was feeling right now. Anger at Dumbledore, grief for Sirius, and dread of having to start occlumency again the next day.

How dare the headmaster waltz in here like none of the trust he'd built up over the years with Harry had been broken? How dare he act as though it was just another day- as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened last year? He'd lied to Harry, in every way. He'd omitted everything that didn't go accordingly with his plan for the boy, he'd avoided Harry's questions, and misguided him with many of his answers. And now he was demanding that Harry resume the worthless ordeals that were Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.

The quill in Harry's hand snapped in half, catching Harry's attention as he looked down irritably at the frail writing utensil. Harry sighed and threw it to the side, running his hands through his already messy hair.

"I need a walk," said Harry to himself, rising from the couch.

He went upstairs to pull on a hooded sweatshirt, and then made his way out into the hallway. Harry decided that if there was one good thing about the impending start of term, it was that would have someone to be with him. He was sick of being alone all the time in this big castle. The place was one thousand years old, and held more secrets than probably any other building in Britain, if not in the world. Yet, Harry didn't want to explore them. Not by himself. There was no one to share in the fun, no one to help distract him from the troubles that pained him.

Thinking that he didn't want to stay inside the gloomy, empty castle, Harry decided to make his way up to the astronomy tower.

After climbing stairs for what seemed like an eternity, Harry finally arrived at the top of the tower, and he climbed out onto the high platform. It was truly an amazing sight, the grounds around Hogwarts from up here. He wondered if there was a more beautiful place on earth; around him, he could see the lake glittering like crystal in the sunlight, the tall trees of the forbidden forest, and the rocky tops of the surrounding mountains.

Harry sank down to the floor, and sat there while the sun slowly sank behind the mountains.

Why was his life like this? He knew of the prophecy... he supposed he knew _why_ it was like this... just, why did it have to be him? Selfish as it was, this was one of those times when he almost found himself thinking that he'd rather trade places with Neville. He was sick of having everyone in his life taken from him, and having everyone that remained use him like a pawn in a difficult game of chess.

Harry brought his head to rest on his knees, and stared out at the trees. Just two years ago, he'd been soaring over those trees on a Hippogriff, rescuing his godfather. What had been the point? It had all ended badly anyways.

A sigh escaped him. Would these bitter thoughts ever stop plaguing him? Would he ever find someone that cared for him just as much as Sirius had? Would he even survive the coming war... the final battle with Voldemort?

The sun slipped away, leaving behind just a faint pink glow in the late summer sky. A shadow fell over the trees... but what was that shadow? It was moving... Harry raised his gaze to the figure above.

The greatest bird Harry had ever seen was soaring over the trees. Huge, its wingspan seemed to stretch about twelve feet. Its radiant white color set it apart from any other bird Harry had ever seen; this was no owl, and this was no swan- what could it be? It was... it was soaring closer and closer.

Harry narrowed his eyes, and rose to his feet. The bird was heading for him, deliberately and speedily. There was no mistaking it- Harry was this bird's prey, and considering it's rapid speed, he had very little time to escape. Harry backed up a few steps, and abandoning a cautionary retreat as the bird swooped down on him from overhead, he began to run. The bird came out of its dive and re-circled, taking a more shallow dive this time as it aimed for the smaller boy.

Harry jerked at the door leading to the steps, but it wouldn't budge. Looking behind him and seeing the bird so close, he gave it another mighty tug, but to no avail. It was his last chance; he pulled out his want and aimed it at the door, reading to blast through it- but it was too late.

It happened so fast. Harry was ready to scream the curse at the stubborn door, when he felt the great talons of the bird sink into his shoulder. He gave a yell at the painful contact, and then at the sudden pull his stomach felt as his feet were lifted off the ground. He kicked his feet, flailed his arms, yelled, anything he could do to get this bird to let go of him. However, as they flew away from the safety of the tower, he soon decided this was a very bad idea.

It was such a shock that Harry realized, as he looked below him, that he was dangling about five hundred feet above the Hogwarts grounds. There was nowhere to go but down, and he certainly wasn't going to take the risk of falling to his death.

What did this bird want from him? Certainly, nothing good. In fact, Harry doubted very much that this thing was really a bird. It was almost certainly someone's animagus form- but whose? And where was he being taken?

It wasn't a long journey, which Harry was almost thankful for. His chances of rescue while in the sky were slim, and he could feel the warm blood trickling down his chest from the shoulders the bird held onto.

The bird started to descend somewhere behind one of the mountains surrounding the castle. They were no longer on Hogwarts grounds, but they were very close. Perhaps, if Harry was left here, he could make a run for it when he had the chance, and make it back to the castle. If he could even send a signal with his wand, he knew that would be enough for someone there to come find him.

Harry was soon released with a thud, and dragged by the beak of the bird into a small cavern. It was shady and a bit damp, but Harry could see very clearly just who this bird was, and what was wanted from him.

It was a quick transformation, one that left Harry little time to think about what to do next. The formerly great white feathers were morphing into long, white strands of hair. The long wings shortened into thicker human arms, and the legs grew to full length. A terrible screech erupted from the bird, and moments later, Lucius Malfoy was standing over Harry, a horrible smirk curling around his thin lips.

Before Harry could reach for his wand, Malfoy had swiped it from his pocket and secured it inside his own.

"Ah ah," Malfoy tutted, mockingly wagging his finger at Harry. "We can't have you going and doing something stupid, like trying to escape."

His tone became darker. "Get up, now," he said, lip curling in distaste.

Harry did as he was told, not because Malfoy told him to, but because he didn't think that lying on the floor put him at much of an advantage.

Malfoy grabbed Harry by his hair and dragged him back into the dark of the cave. When the older man used his wand to illuminate the cave, Harry saw a small door, and before long, he was being forced through it.

Through the door was a room, a room that appeared to be one of an entire network of chambers, each with its own function. Harry was led through the entryway to what appeared to be some sort of prison. Men and women were chained inside cells, some so bloody and battered they were beyond recognition. Harry wondered if that were to be his fate; would he end up some faceless torture toy chained to a wall?

Malfoy brutally shoved Harry into one of the empty cells.

"I will inform the Dark Lord of your arrival," Malfoy said with a smirk. "Until then, sit still. Oh," Malfoy lowered his voice and leaned forward. "And, if I were you, I'd try not to draw too much attention to myself. The only orders we have are not to kill you. No one ever said anything about merciless torture."

Malfoy straightened back up, looked Harry over, and exited the cell, locking the door behind him with his wand.

Harry waited until he had disappeared from sight, and then rose to his feet. He rubbed his shoulder and winced; there was still blood trickling from the wounds Malfoy had left with his talons. Harry could feel them throbbing painfully, but he didn't care. He had to think of way to get out. But without a wand, the situation was hopeless. He was a scrawny boy for his age, so brute strength was an asset he didn't have. He couldn't pick a magical lock, and even if he did manage to get out, how far would he get without any type of defense?

Harry sat down in the corner, bringing his knees to his chest. All he could do was hope for a rescue… hope someone would notice he was missing… and that they would know where to look.

AN: YOU GUYS ARE AWSOME! I love you all soooo much, and I must say, I am sooo thrilled with the response you guys have given me, you're support warms me so much I think I feel a tear coming on…. Sniff... I reached exactly the amount of reviews I initially had at this posting point previously, and I want to thank you all so much for that. I will try to post frequently, I'm hoping every day or so, that way I will soon have it at the chapter point it was at before.

**SIXTH YEAR EXTRA CLASSES:**

Wizarding Law: Covers the law system of wizards, past trials, punishments, how to work in a job with law, ect.

Business in the Wizarding World: This covers small and large business techiniques, ways to start a business and keep it running, people skills, marketing, ect.

Wizarding World Travel: This class ties in with International Interpretation in a way, it covers the customs of some countries and how to adjust to them, it is basically a class that teaches young wizards about jobs that entail traveling, some basic geography, what you need to know when traveling, and some of the sites to be seen and things to do when traveling.

International Interpretation: This class covers Cultural differences and the interpretation of law across the Wizarding globe. This is a really important class for anyone who will be dealing with multicultural populations of people, traveling, or entering the law and business.

Medicine and Healing: Pretty self explanatory, basically a good class for anyone entering a medical career or wanting to learn remedies and healing techniques.

Magic on the Offense: Also self explanatory, in a way, it's more of a step up from DADA. This is good for anyone who wants to learn how to fight within the laws of society, and it's great for someone considering auror training. This will be a popular class among the sixth years.

Magical Disguising: This idea stemmed from when Tonks talked about the tests you have to pass to be an auror; she said you had to be good at disguising yourself. I thought, "Well, then let's teach them how!"


	7. Beyond Recognition

Chapter 7

Beyond Recognition

Authors notes at Bottom.

xxx

Severus waited until a moment after Dumbledore had left the room to relieve his stony visage into the weary, intensely troubled expression which masked the turbulent bout of emotions that were inflicting their presence on his normally stoic psyche. Sure that the Headmaster was gone, he turned and headed in the direction of his private quarters. A dimly lit, narrow passageway led from his lab to his room, allowing him a private escape. After treading only a moderate stretch of corridor, he reached a slim black door and, after grumbling the password, entered his rooms.

Severus was, though loath to admit it, still shaken by the news he'd learned from Dumbledore the previous night and, despite many attempts, hadn't slept since. The hour had been late when he had returned from Dumbledore's office and he had immediately thrown himself into the preparation of the medicinal potions Madame Pomfrey had been routinely pestering him about for the past four days. Since Severus was an avoidant by nature, it seemed natural that now, in the face of a grave realization and impending struggle, the Potions Master would finally take on the task he had been loath to complete before. It was no longer an annoyance; it was a welcomed distraction.

Barely aware of where he was or what he was doing, Severus sank down into his armchair. In a position that few would find comforting, he let his arms rest on the sides, fingers gripping the cool, worn leather. His head lolled to rest against the high back of the chair, and he closed his eyes against the dull throb that was beginning to develop in the back of his cranium.

Sitting next to the chair was a small table. There was nothing extraordinary about it: short in stature, made of a dull wood which, if one looked close enough, didn't quite match with a majority of the furniture in the room, and containing only one drawer. This ordinary table, however, did not go unnoticed by Severus for long. As if he were expecting it to come to life and strike him, he eventually opened his eyes and slanted to the side, eyeing the table warily. He knew what it contained, and was ashamed of his own longing to retrieve what was in it.

Giving into this perceived temptation, a bony hand reached out and slid the drawer open. From it he drew a small muggle photograph: dull with age and covered in a thin veil of grey dust. With his thumb he uncovered the image beneath the offending particles, a tinge of sadness manifesting itself in his features as he gazed at it. It was more than a simple picture; it was a picture of the woman he'd once loved… or perhaps, the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Lily's red hair curled softly around her pale face, contrasting sharply with the brilliant green eyes that characterised her appearance. A simple but genuine smile graced her delicate features, giving off a warm radiance that had not been dulled with the depleted lustre of the photograph.

"Lily," Severus murmured softly, running his fingers over her picture again. A sorrowful smile almost graced his features before he caught himself; Severus Snape did not smile, and certainly not out of sentiment for a past which had long been lost. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and placing her picture back in the drawer from where it had come, almost regretful that he had retrieved it again.

Guilt was an emotion that Severus did not particularly enjoy dealing with, but the fact was that his many mistakes had accustomed him to the feeling. Therefore, it was not the feeling of guilt that overwhelmed him, nor was it what one would call regret… it was best described as grief, and as Severus had not allowed himself to become attached to many people in his lifetime, that was certainly one emotion that he did not know what to do with.

It was the realization that his overreaction had caused the rapid cessation of what might have been an enduring marriage and the termination of his child—a child who may have helped Severus to finally find a palpable sense of redemption— that had stirred these unpleasant and long repressed emotions in him. He wouldn't call himself child-friendly, exactly, but the thought of having a family to come home to at the end of every day stirred some sort of yearning in him, and accentuated the acute feeling of loss in him. Not for the first time, he found himself faced with a severe longing to go back and do everything again: the right way. Such a wish was folly, however, and he knew it. For some reason, that knowledge made the desire increase tenfold.

It would have been easier to release the emotion through the tears that were certainly the source of the pressure behind his eyes, but years of repressing such urges had formed a habitual tendency to erect walls between his heart and mind, and as he did so, stoicism returned. Along with it came an inexplicable exhaustion—his body's natural defence against the forces which threatened to bring the emotions rushing back.

Tipping his head back to rest, Severus once again allowed his eyes to fall closed, grateful for the release when he felt the gentle tug of slumber pulling at his conscious mind. Easily he succumbed, giving very little thought to what he would do when he woke again and all his problems were still waiting to be solved.

Many hours later, Severus awoke with a start. He looked at the time and knew instantly why. He'd slept all the way through the night and for most of the day. The emotional energy, coupled with the weariness he'd developed making his potions and the exhaustion of his Death Eater's meeting, had caused him to become so fatigued that he'd slept for nearly twenty hours. As usual, his convenient internal clock had awoken him just in time to make his way down to his office to meet Potter for Occlumency lessons.

Trying to rid himself of the crick in his neck, he rose from the couch and changed into a fresh pair of black robes, not bothering to check the mirror before he left. Half an hour later, he was seated in his office, watching the clock. As usual, the boy was late. Severus smirked to himself, thinking of the points he would take when the school year started.

As the hour ticked by, Severus became more and more irritated by the boy's tardiness. Honestly, an hour late was a bit much, even for Potter. Finally, Severus decided to go and find the boy who was making a mockery of his time. On his way to Gryffindor tower, however, a sharp pain in his left arm made him stop in his tracks. He was being called, and he surely could not ignore the Dark Lord. Deciding that he would berate the boy later, he left the castle in a rush, summoned his Death Eater robes and mask, and apparated at the gates.

Snape arrived promptly, and to his relief, he wasn't the last one there. Being late was never favorable to the Dark Lord, and hardly ever went unpunished. He joined the circle of followers, and stood there silently. Before long, everyone coming had arrived, and the Dark Lord seemed satisfied with the turnout.

Voldemort stood at the head of the room, surrounded by his followers.

"My faithful servants," he said softly. "Today is a glorious day."

Voldemort stepped down off the platform he'd been standing on, and began to pace the inner ring of the circle. There was a short pause in which he seemed to be examining each of the hooded men he stopped in front of. Severus waited patiently, breath abated, as Voldemort gradually made his way towards him.

"For many years, I have searched for a way to prevent my end. Apparently, I was not guarded enough sixteen years ago to stop my own diminishment. But now," He paused as he came to stand in front of Severus. Unlike he had with the rest of the men, however, Voldemort did not step away. He stood directly in front of the Potions Master, as though to sense his reaction to what was to come. "I have discovered a spell which cannot fail. Very similar to the one I used in my resurrection, I require two things; the blood of a faithful servant, and the heart of my enemy."

Voldemort looked directly at Severus. "I have my faithful servant," he raised his hand into the air and snapped his fingers. "And my enemy."

Voldemort stepped back from Severus, and he could see a Death Eater dragging a bloody body into the center of the room. Voldemort cackled evilly.

'Oh Lord,' Severus thought, 'it can't be…'

Severus' fears were soon confirmed as the boy was thrown to the floor and kicked onto his back; it was Potter. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of his mangled body, but he was careful to betray nothing of what he felt to the vile creature standing in front of him. He kept his mind completely occluded, letting the Dark Lord sense only joy and happiness, despite his real desire to spit in disgust on the evil imitation of a man he was forced to call "Lord".

"Severus," Voldemort hissed. "I believe you are familiar with the Asterisus potion?"

Severus nodded.

"For those who are not," Voldemort said, raising his voice and looking around at the crowd of masked men. "This glorious liquid is exactly what I need to perform a binding spell between myself… and a prodigy. I will choose one of my most loyal servant's children, and he and I will add our blood to this potion. When we drink it, we will merge to become one in two… nearly invincible. This child will, of course, go through the same rigorous training I endured to come to full power before we perform the spell. But as the potion must sit for a year, it will need to be made now to be complete in time to use on my new half.

"Each of you will bring your child to me five months from now. Until that time, I suggest that you prepare them as well as you can. The strongest and most clever shall be chosen as my prodigy… but I will have chosen far before I finish the testing, I can ensure that. It is in your children's best interests that they are ready… I think you will find that those who are not will suffer most… and suffering often leads to death."

Voldemort finally stepped away from Severus, taking to circling the group once more. Anxiety hung in the air as he did so. Every Death Eater was considering what had just been said, and though these were not the purest of men, each still cared for his child. What Voldemort had implied stuck fear in the hearts of the men that were seemingly fearless.

"For ages I have wasted my energy seeking to defeat this boy." Voldemort said softly, delicately and painfully pronouncing each syllable. "I was so blind when the answer was right in front of me. Why try to prove my superiority to him, when I could simply have him done away with and use his death to my advantage?"

It seemed that Voldemort was speaking to himself more than to his followers. He stood staring at the beaten boy in speculation, as if pondering why he'd not seen an answer so simple before.

"Men, tonight starts a new era. Lord Voldemort rises again… but this time, not to defeat Harry Potter. Oh, make no mistake, the boy will be killed. But the rest of the Wizarding world needn't know it… yet. We will kill this boy, and then one among you will take his place. One who knows the facets of his everyday life, one who has already been able to fool Dumbledore into believing anything we want him to…"

Severus froze. The Dark Lord was talking about him, he knew it. He was going to be asked to take the boy's place. He was going to be asked…

"Severus," Voldemort said suddenly. "You know what I am going to ask you to do. Now hear what I need you to do now. You will take this boy," He jerked his head over his shoulder at Harry, "and prepare the potion. I want you to use your blood… Oh, and as you cut out his heart, make sure he's conscious. It needs to be beating when it is added… and go slowly; I don't want any damage done to it."

Severus nodded, paling behind his mask. He walked purposefully towards the boy, acting as though he was looking forward to the task he was being asked to perform. He carelessly grabbed the boy by the leg, feeling that it was the sturdiest of his body parts, and dragged him out of the room.

Once out into the corridor, Severus looked around, and seeing that no one was around, he knelt next to the boy.

"Oh, Potter," He muttered, shaking his head. "What did they do to you?"

AN: So, once again, still let me know if the characters are "In Character", its so important…. And so hard!

Also, I am doing my best to keep away from the basic Severitus challenge, uniqueness is key. Let me know when I need to work harder with the creativityness (yes, I know that's not a word, but then, neither was supercallafragalisticexpialadocious, and look where that got!)

Alright, everyone, I decided to post this chapter now since… umm… I love you. Please review, sitting down and looking through reviews is usually the highlight of my day, and I swear I write more when I'm in a good mood. If you read, simply click the review box and say: "Good/Bad Chapter, I read, I will/will not continue to read, Update" or "You wanted me to review so I did, but I have nothing to say so be content with this." Really, that's all I need. I'm very easily entertained, trust me.

I'm curious to see if I could get every person who reads to review… that would be so amazing…

Input is welcome, I love suggestions, they inspire me. What would you guys like to see happen with Severus? I'm a little torn on some issues, such as his spy work… Once again, I have the basic idea, and I think I know what I'm going to do, but I need a word from the readers to tell me I'm on the right path.

I love you all platonically!


	8. The Weight of the World

Chapter 8

The Weight of the World

Author's notes at bottom

A closer look at Harry proved grotesque. One eye was purpled and swollen shut over his eye, and one of his earlobes was slit right up to the center. Blood was seeping from underneath his bangs, and cuts lined his jaw where he had clearly been hit too many times. His nose was surrounded by dark, dry blood, but luckily, it had not been broken. All down his bony chest were black and blue bruises, and his arm was bent at a sickening angle. Blood soaked his left pant leg, and the foot on the same leg was too swollen to properly fit into a shoe.

Grimacing, Severus carefully slid his arms underneath the boy's broken body, lifting him from the ground. He kept one arm carefully positioned underneath Harry's neck, and the other under his knees. He took care to hold Harry's bent arm to his body to prevent further damage. Once satisfied that he would not harm the boy by carrying him, Severus set off towards the potions lab, rapidly searching his mind for a plan.

He would never be able to get out and make it very far with the boy in this condition, and his magic was not enough to help the child. Voldemort would surely notice their absence, and they would be caught. What Severus needed was a diversion, though he couldn't think how to create one. Furthermore, he couldn't leave the boy's side; he was in a most unstable condition.

Pushing this thought aside, he hurried into the potions lab that had been created deep within the mountain. It contained nearly every potions ingredient known to man, and a few that most people didn't even know existed. However, as a rule, no actual potions were kept in this room. This was because over the years the Dark Lord had learned that when he "punished" Severus and then sent him to work on a potion, he had easily been able to treat his afflictions with one of the wide variety of potions he'd created. As a result, the Dark Lord had ordered any actual potions to be kept in a separate room, to which only he could give access. All potions ingredients were kept stock of, so that no one could use them without the Dark Lord's knowledge.

Severus gently laid Harry onto the cool, tile counter, and pulled out his wand. He performed what small healing spells he could do without being detected, hoping to stop the bleeding and some of the pain. It helped; after a moment, Harry groaned and moved his head, but gave no other sign of response.

"Potter?"

Harry mumbled something inscrutable, not opening his eyes.

"Potter," Severus said, not sure if the boy could hear him. "Whatever happens, I need you to struggle if another Death Eater shows up." He paused, ready to explain the plan he'd only just thought of. Before he could say anything else, however, Lucius Malfoy had arrived.

To Severus' relief, Harry immediately did as he'd been asked to do, even though he was only on the brink of consciousness. He used all of his strength to try and push himself off of the table, and Severus immediately sprang forward to stop him. Though Harry was weak, he still tried with all his might to do a good job of faking an attempted escape. Within moments, however, Severus had feigned slamming him back onto the table, and Harry took this as his cue to go unconscious again.

Severus held Harry down for a moment, secretly checking to see if he'd hurt the boy. Once convinced that he'd not caused further injury, he released Harry and straightened back up, turning to face Lucius.

"What are you doing down here, Lucius?" snarled Severus, begrudged by his appearance.

"The Dark Lord wishes for someone to assist you," Lucius said, raising an eyebrow as if

to say he doubted that was the real reason, and glancing behind Severus to the now truly unconscious child on the lab counter. "So I volunteered. I know how you hate strange people in your labs."

"How courteous of you," Severus grumbled, sweeping over to the shelves containing cauldrons. He selected a large brass cauldron with a flat bottom and set it upon the counter. Lucius watched in interest as he then began to select the ingredients he would need to start the potion.

Severus skimmed the shelves, book in hand, for the Ebil leaves. He had shortly found them next to the Essence of Moonwade, when he had a stroke of genius. Looking up, he saw Lucius watching him, and said, "So, Lucius, has Draco been studying hard this summer?"

He knew how much Lucius loved to brag about his son, and was right in guessing it was the perfect topic to distract him.

"Oh, yes." Lucius responded, looking quite smug. "It's been quite a productive summer. He's finished learning volume six of our Dark Arts books, and is moving on to seven. Also, he wrote an extra essay for potions… which I'm sure you'll be happy to count as extra credit."

As he knew Lucius would expect, Severus gave him a pleased smirk.

"Of course," Severus said, hiding his annoyance. "You know I'm always pleasured to help him out, he is my favorite student after all. Besides," He paused, and changed his tone to a more disparaging one. "I'm hoping he'll be given head boy next year, and that dunderhead Dumbledore places so much emphasis on grades. I'll be damned if I see another Weasley as head of the school."

Lucius nodded contemptuously. "Yes," He said. "We've already got one in the ministry, and look how that's going. I've been trying to convince Fudge to get rid of that sad excuse for a wizard years now, and still he won't budge. At least you agree with me." He said, looking satisfied. Severus took this opportunity to discreetly slip the bottle of Ebil leaves into his robe pockets. He looked up quickly to check that Lucius hadn't seen him, and saw that he hadn't.

Severus looked back down, frowning. "It seems we have a problem," he said. "Wasn't there supposed to be one bottle of Ebil leaves left?"

Lucius looked at the inventory list he'd brought with him. "Yes," he said charily. He walked over to the shelf. "Why, isn't it there?"

"No," said Severus, looking perplexed. He then turned to Lucius. "Well, I haven't got to add the leaves for half an hour; have the leaves to me by then."

Lucius' eyebrows slowly rose. "Since when did I start taking orders from you?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "I don't think the Dark Lord will especially welcome my presence when he asked me to come down here and make this potion. Besides," He paused and glanced at Harry with a sneer. "I have to make sure _he" _he jerked his head irritably in Harry's direction, "doesn't escape. You know what a nasty habit of his that is."

"You're sure they're not there?" Lucius asked suspiciously, peering at the shelf.

"Are you accusing me of lying?" Severus said softly, refraining from threat but adding to intimidation.

"No," Lucius said, not entirely convincing. "Just a curious disappearance."

"No," Severus said nonchalantly. "Quite understandable actually, they are used in a number of healing potions. I wouldn't be surprised if someone thought they were being clever, sneaking in here and stealing them."

"Well, we'll see about clever." Lucius said, before turning and heading out the door.

Once he was gone, Severus rushed back to Harry. He was still breathing; Severus could see the slow rise and fall of his chest, but he had really fallen back into a state of unconsciousness. Thinking fast, Severus reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small coin. It had the same effect as the coins Hermione had charmed the previous year; Dumbledore had thought it a rather clever idea and modified them for use of the order. Severus flipped over the coin and engraved it with the letters K.S.

The coin could be used as something of a portkey; one order member could call another, and the receiving order member could use the coin reach the place where the other was undetected by any wards that had been raised to guard against outsiders.

Within moments, Kingsley Shackelbolt had appeared, and once he saw where he was, his expression showed that of deep concern.

"What is it Severus?" Kingsley whispered, his back turned to Harry. "The key started burning a hole in my pocket, I figured it meant you needed me right now…"

Severus nodded curtly, and indicated for Kingsley to turn around. He did, and barely withheld a gasp, only stepping back in shock. He slowly turned back around and looked at Severus in question.

Severus explained. "From what I gather, they captured him somewhere near the school. The thickheaded boy was probably wandering somewhere he shouldn't have been."

"That doesn't explain-"

"As is the nature of the Death Eaters," Severus continued, a dangerous edge in his voice that warned Kingsley not to interrupt. "Once captured, he was most likely tortured with the instructions only not to kill him or damage his heart; this his condition plainly implies. I haven't much time to explain everything, but the momentary problem is the Asterisus Potion- you know what that is?"

Kingsley nodded.

"I thought so." Severus said gravely. "The Asterisus Potion is what they need him for."

Kingsley froze, eyes wide. "What do you need me to do?" He said after a short moment.

Severus looked around to ensure they were alone, and then launched into a rushed overview of the plan. "I sent Lucius Malfoy up to collect me a supply of Ebil leaves, which are currently in my pocket. I am the only one who knows how to get out of here unnoticed, and the only person to ever pull it off. I am going to take Potter and get him to Hogwarts, you need to stay here and pose as me. You've done so before, and you're the only person I trust not to blow my cover. Also, this way, if Voldemort demands that I make the potion with another of his enemies, it will be ineffective with your blood, and it will be a year before he realizes."

Shackelbolt nodded solemnly, looking at Harry. "What shall I say happened?"

"When we first arrived down here, I instructed Potter to struggle against me, and so when Malfoy arrived, it seemed I was having a difficult time controlling him. You would be best off saying that he somehow activated a portkey he and Dumbledore must have set up." Severus finished quickly, with slight satisfaction at how quickly he'd managed to think up such an elaborate plan.

"You've been at this too long, Severus." Kingsley said, shaking his head. "You have the identity potion?" asked Kingsley, motioning for the vile he knew Severus was about to pull from his robes.

Severus nodded and retrieved it from the bundles of black.

"I've made a few upgrades," he said, handing him the potion, "so it should last about thirty six hours per dose. You've built up immunity, so you should be alright to drink the whole thing."

Kingsley looked at the vial in apprehension for a moment, then downed the potion in one gulp. "You had better be going." He said. "It may take you a while to get out of here with him."

Severus nodded darkly, unable to restrain the nerves jumping around in his stomach at the thought of the impending task. Delicately lifting Harry from the counter, Severus turned to Kingsley. "Be careful." He said.

"And the same to you, my friend." Kingsley said, appearance slowly starting to change. "You carry with you the weight of the Wizarding world."

And so he did.

**X X X**

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

I couldn't respond to the reviews this week, I'm very sorry. I'll include them next week, I promise. Actually, I might just start posting responses to reviews on my homepage, what do you think?

Once again to old fans- If you did not receive an email from me, please go to my homepage and read what I have posted there. It is a collection of your old reviews, sorted by penname, and if you wish to help me out, please re-submit the reviews you had left before. Thank you!

I really hope that if you read, you will review; please do, because it is so hard to write when I'm not getting feedback. Siriusly, I've been on chapter 17 for two weeks… tis frustrating, let me tell you.


	9. Carry You

Chapter 9- Carry You

Authors notes at bottom

Severus peeked out into the corridor, checking that the coast was clear. Glancing at Potter's face, he saw that the boy was still unconscious, and stepped out the door. He quietly crept down the hallway, making the best time possible. Within minutes, he'd reached his first checkpoint location. He'd come to the end of the hallway, where he knew there was a secret passage lying inside the walls.

Needing a free hand, he carefully lowered Harry's legs to the floor, just barely able to support the rest of his weight with one arm. He reached up and twisted the second branch of the candleholder, and then re-lifted Harry into his arms. He silently thanked Merlin that the boy weighed so little… at the same time, he pondered why.

Holding the child in his arms, Severus barely managed to squeeze through the narrow gateway that had appeared in the wall. He did though, and once inside, Severus started wondering about the state of Harry's lungs. The passageway was cold, musty, dark and dank. If any damage had been done to Harry's throat or respiratory system, these conditions could mean the boy's death. However, Severus didn't have another option. He could only hope and pray that he'd be out of the tunnel soon and that Harry's system could handle the conditions.

It had been a while since he'd last been forced to get out of the mountain this way, and Severus worried that he might need more than his instincts to guide him. However, since neither of his hands was free, and Potter was unconscious, he had little access to his wand, which he otherwise might have used to point him. To make matters worse, Severus' arms were becoming ridiculously tired; he'd been supporting Harry's weight for nearly an hour now. Thankfully, they were close to the end of the tunnel.

When they'd come to a small trap door that led out of the passageway, Severus set Harry down on the moist, dirt ground. He suddenly realized something he hadn't even thought of previously. Whenever he'd had to use this way to get out, it had always meant that he had to take a swim. Yes, the passageway led to the lake on the Hogwarts grounds. There was a trapdoor in the ground, and when you fell through it, you landed in the water within a small cavern. What few people knew was that the giant squid, which inhabited the lake, was protecting the castle from intruders. It knew that Severus was loyal to Dumbledore, so he'd always been able to get by without a problem. This was why none of the Death Eaters had suspected he could get out that way; the giant squid guarded the door most of the time.

Once in the cavern, one could swim to the edge and climb onto the land there. From there, it appeared that the tunnels would only take you further into the mountain, and that you would need to swim back out to get to the Hogwarts grounds. But in fact, if you followed the right passageway, you would be led to the dungeons of Hogwarts. From there, one needed a password, one that only members of the order know, to progress onward.

Previously, this had been a common route for Severus to take when getting out of trouble. But now that he was carrying a boy in his arms, a boy that was unconscious for that matter, it was going to be a little more difficult than it had been in the past.

Severus knelt down next to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

"Potter," he said softly. "Potter, I know you're in pain right now, but I need your attention for just a bit."

Harry, however, was completely unresponsive, and Severus didn't know what to do.

'Oh lord,' Severus thought to himself. 'I can't exactly leave him here to go and get help, and I certainly can't take him back. Perhaps if we just stayed put for while, until he started to come 'round,'

Just when he was debating what to do, Severus heard an opening way at the end of the tunnel. Slowly, and in complete dread, Severus turned his head, and could see a faint light in the distance. He had no other choice; he scooped Harry into this arms, kicked open the hatch, and clutching Harry tightly to his chest, he dropped down through it.

Severus plunged into the icy water, and opened his eyes. He looked down at Harry, and saw that with the contact to the cold water, he had regained consciousness. There was one problem; with the dive into the water, Harry had gasped, and his lungs had filled with water.

Time was limited, within moments, Harry could be dead. Severus kicked up to the surface quickly, reaching it within seconds. He then grabbed Harry from behind, pushing on his lower chest and forcing the water out of his lungs. Harry had once again gone unconscious, however, and wasn't breathing. Severus swam to the edge and dragged himself and the boy up onto the ground.

Rolling Harry onto his back, he immediately began CPR, a technique Albus had taught him when he'd started spying against the Dark Lord.

"Come on, don't die on me now." Severus said between breaths, pumping Harry's chest with every ounce of energy he had in him. "You've survived the Dark Lord six times, and you're going to let a little water do you in? COME ON, POTTER!"

Severus bent down and filled Harry's lungs with air once again, and to his relief, when he'd pulled away, the boy's eyes snapped open. He was coughing and sputtering, but he was alive. Severus sighed in relief and sat back on his heels, trying to catch his breath as Harry caught his.

Harry was looking around in shock, obviously attempting to figure out exactly what had happened since he'd last fallen unconscious.

"Sit up, Potter." Severus said softly after a minute.

Harry moved to do as he was told, but winced at the sharp, stabbing pain riveting through his ribs.

"It's ok, it's ok," Severus said urgently, helping Harry to lie back down. "If it hurts too badly, just stay down. We can stay here for a short while. Here," he said, pulling a small vial from the pocket in his robes. "Chew on one of these."

Severus pulled out one of the Ebil leaves he'd extracted from the shelf a few hours earlier, and placed a hand behind Harry's head to prop him up slightly, offering one of the leaves to him.

Harry chewed on it with a disgusted expression on his face, but seemed too tired to complain about it.

"That should help your body to start healing itself." Severus said, moving closer and lifting Harry partially onto his lap to better support him.

Harry was still in a daze; he faintly remembered what had happened hours earlier in the potions lab, but honestly had no other idea what was going on. The last thing he remembered was passing out from the pain the Death Eaters had inflicted on him, and the constant all-over ache in his body would not soon let him forget.

All he really knew was that one moment, he'd felt sure that this was the end; no one would come to save him. The next moment, the professor who loathed him most was holding him steady on his lap and gently helping to heal his wounds. Most days this would have bothered Harry; he'd have had questions about the nature of this caring… but today, he was too tired, and too scared, to care.

"Professor," Harry said once the shock had started to wear off, "What happened?"

Severus looked down at Harry, surprised at the sympathy he was feeling for this battered boy at the moment. "It's a very long story, Potter." He said quietly, feeling it was best not to overload him with information just yet. Potter was weak, and telling him of the Dark Lord's new plan might throw him into shock.

Harry frowned; why did people always do this to him? Did he not have a right to know what was going on, especially when it so heavily involved him? Wasn't he subject to an account of the events that had nearly led up to his death? Everyone did this to him, Dumbledore, the order, even Sirius…

"Why don't we wait until we've reached the hospital wing?" Severus said wearily, lifting Harry into his arms and steadily rising to his feet. "I'll explain everything there."

Harry blinked several times, but said nothing. It was surprising to him that the one person who seemed to care about him the least was the one person who would respect his need for information.

Following one of the tunnels, they came to a long staircase, winding upward through stony walls for what seemed like miles. The two of them looked up at it in dreadful anticipation.

"I suggest you hold on, Potter," said Severus. "Unless, of course, you would enjoy plummeting down these stairs to your death." He said sarcastically, taking the first step among many to come.

"Were does this lead?" Harry asked, holding on to Severus' neck.

"Up to Hogwarts." Severus said heavily. "But don't talk to me, this is going to be a long climb."

Harry did as he was told, clutching to Severus the whole time and keeping his mouth shut. The higher they got, the more nervous he became that Severus would topple over any moment, and the harder he concentrated on not causing this to happen.

At long last, they reached the top of the staircase. Severus was panting heavily and looked uncharacteristically thrilled that they'd finally made it up.

"Sage and candy canes." Severus said in a low, annoyed growl.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. Severus nodded. "Dumbledore made it up." He stated simply, climbing up through the hatch that had opened up. "Last Christmas." He added, rolling his eyes.

Once up, Severus made haste to rush Harry to the hospital wing.

"Poppy," Severus gasped, stumbling into the ward.

Madame Pomfrey immediately appeared, and gasped at the sight of Harry. "Goodness me!" She exclaimed. "What happened?"

Severus deposited Harry onto the nearest bed and flung himself into the chair next to it, relief washing over his face. "Death Eaters," Severus gasped, still trying to regain a normal breathing rate. He couldn't remember ever being so tired. "But never you mind, Poppy, he's alive."

Madame Pomfrey narrowed her eyes at Severus, who was once again surprised at how intimidating the small, frail woman could be. "Don't 'never you mind' me, Severus!" She said shrilly. "You may help yourself into the next bed."

"I won't." Severus said, raising his eyebrows. "_I'm _fine. It's Potter who's hurt, tend to _him_."

"Not once have you returned from a meeting where something such as this happened and been unharmed." Madame Pomfrey reasoned.

"Well, there's a first for everything." Severus said resolutely.

"I suppose so," said Madame Pomfrey, "and this wouldn't be the first time I've had to force you to accept my help."

Severus rolled his eyes and sank back into his chair. "Oh, bloody hell, woman. Would you drop it? I—" Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jumped from his chair.

"Poppy, the boy's stopped breathing." He said, trying to maintain a degree of calm as he rushed to Harry's side.

Authors Notes

Thank you again to all who've reviewed, you're all brilliant and I love you platonically!

I will now be posting responses to reviews at my homepage, so if you wish to check that out, you may. With updating so frequently, I haven't had much time to respond.

I will try to have it up to its highest level of chapters soon.

Please read and review, even if just to say that you did, it really helps!


	10. Knowing the Unknown Spy

SC1-10

Chapter 10

Author's notes at bottom

"Severus, go get Headmaster Dumbledore!" Madame Pomfrey shouted, running to the supply cupboard.

"Not on your life, Poppy." Severus said, rushing to her side.

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes and shoved a series of potions into Severus' arms. He, knowing exactly what to do with them, hurried back to Harry's bedside with the remedies in hand and immediately began administering them.

They were doing everything they knew how to keep Harry alive; pouring liquids down his throat, calling his name to keep him from slipping away, whatever they could say to keep him there, they did. Naturally, Madame Pomfrey had a much better idea of what to say than Severus did, but he was handy in the potions department. He'd summoned from his lab every revival potion he knew he had in stock, and was hastily using every single one of them.

Madame Pomfrey had gone to work with her wand, using various healing and stimulating spells. It took three jolts of a shocking spell before Harry had begun to breathe again. His condition was still unstable; a finger to the neck proved his heart was beating irregularly.

As his current state guaranteed, Harry's body soon began convulsion, his limbs flailing out of control, his body quivering as though waves of energy were coursing through it. What was even more eerie about this state was despite his seemingly painful twitching and writhing, he stayed completely silent. His eyes were closed, and there was almost a calm look on his face… one that suggested he may not be holding on any longer.

Harry's seizure was escalading out of control, and Severus and Madame Pomfrey had become almost completely helpless. They'd used almost everything they had on hand, but the state he'd reached called for more than potions and spells. They needed a healer.

"Severus," Madame Pomfrey said in a voice of scared quiet, staring at Harry with wide eyes.

"You go, I'll stay." Severus said determinedly, taking a step towards the boy.

As she was afraid to lose any time, Madame Pomfrey left the hospital wing to call for St. Mungo's without another word. As she left, Severus swiftly stepped forward to help the boy, though he had no idea what he was going to do.

"Take my hand, Potter." Severus said, locking hands with the boy.

And something very odd occurred.

Harry immediately stopped moving. His breathing rate slowed, and he appeared to be returning to normal. Severus' eyes widened, and he looked over the boy in disbelief. He wanted to investigate what had happened, but dared not to release Harry's hand.

Harry appeared to be in an unconscious state, but he still knew what was going on. He felt his body twitching and convulsing violently, but could do nothing to stop it. He didn't feel the pain, but he knew it was there. All he could do was sit and hope that whatever Snape and Madame Pomfrey were trying to do would work.

Part of Harry wondered if he shouldn't just let go. What did anyone really need him around for, anyways? He was doomed to a life alone, he could feel it. His godfather had left him, and even if not by choice, he was still gone. Harry was constantly being torn from his friends, who was to say they wouldn't get fed up and leave him behind? Dumbledore was there for him, Harry knew this. But did the man really have that many years left in him? And could Harry really trust him after all he'd neglected to tell him over the years?

Then, out of nowhere, Harry felt someone grab his hand, jerking him back to life. He couldn't understand what had happened; suddenly, he'd stopped moving. He was returning to a normal state. There was some sort of warm energy flowing through him, as though the owner of the hand wanted him to live and was giving him some of his own life. Harry couldn't explain the way it felt; but the feeling in him was like something he'd not felt before; there was some sort of connection.

Suddenly, out of the calm, images flashed through Harry's mind. Many of the faces he saw were familiar… He saw his mother and father, laughing and joking. Strangely, however, they didn't seem to be "together" as a couple would be. They seemed more… friendly, if anything. He saw Dumbledore's concerned gaze fall upon his mother, he saw Lupin and Sirius at the wedding, holding strained smiles on their faces. Then he saw someone else. He saw Snape.

Without another second, Harry jerked back to life; for the second time that day, he felt the completely new feeling of snapping his eyes open and gazing around at the world he'd almost lost. He looked up to see who it was that had clasped his hand and brought him back… it was Professor Snape.

"Stay with me." Severus commanded firmly as Harry's eyelids threatened to fall closed. "Just concentrate on my hand, and keep holding on."

Harry tried to do as he was told, but he could feel himself slowly slipping away. He clutched his Professor's hand tightly, hoping to keep himself in a state of consciousness. "Professor," he whispered. He was going to continue, but at that moment, Madame Pomfrey returned in a panic, closely tailed by Dumbledore and, one could only presume, a healer from St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore looked beyond worry; he looked as though he were desperately trying to suppress the frantic feelings within as they hurried to Harry's bedside. Before he could do or say anything, however, the healer he'd brought with him took over.

The St. Mungo's official approached the bed, relieved at Harry's stability. He looked back and forth from Harry to Severus. The dark Potion's master was not moving; he was fiercely clinging to his student's hand, looking down at him in concentration.

"It's alright," the healer said to Severus. "I've got him from here."

It was a moment before Severus realized that he was being spoken to, and that he was still holding Harry's hand.

"Oh, of course," Severus said, releasing Harry and stepping back slowly. He didn't see the odd look with which Dumbledore was watching him.

"Ok, Harry," the healer said. "You may rest your eyes; I can see you're struggling to keep them open. I'm going to help you; this is what I do every day. When you wake up, everything will be fixed."

Harry knew he should trust this man, but somehow, he didn't. He couldn't let his eyes fall closed because he didn't know everything would be ok; he couldn't trust that he would wake up. He looked around at the familiar faces of the people standing around him, fear obvious in his eyes. Then he looked to Snape. He couldn't explain why, but for some reason, he _trusted_ Snape. He was honest; he never tried to spare feelings or make things sound any different from what they were… at least, not when it came to bad news.

Severus gave him a small nod of reassurance. "You'll be fine," he said. "This man knows what he's doing."

Harry was soon asleep.

Harry could hear the gentle hum of voices in the room with him. They were speaking quietly, but not so that he was unable to hear what they were saying. From what he could tell, the people talking were Dumbledore, Snape, and Kingsley Shackelbolt (he recognized Kingsley's deep voice.)

"Severus," Kingsley's voice was saying. "I'm telling you, I don't think it wise that you return. They were very suspicious of my story, and the only reason I wasn't punished was because You-Know-Who needed you well for the coming order meeting."

"I can't abandon my duties, you know that." Severus was saying irritably. "If I left, the order would have no other way of finding out the information that I give every week."

"We could find a way." Dumbledore said quietly.

Harry opened his eyes only slightly, and saw in the reflection on the window that Dumbledore had a look of deep concern on his face. "Severus, you provide valuable service to the order, yes. But you are in danger, and Voldemort is growing suspicious."

"You weren't so worried two years ago when he'd risen again," Severus said darkly. "Why is it different now?"

"I was scared at the end of that year; I'm not above admitting it." Dumbledore said penitently. "We all were. Your spying was a necessary danger then. Now, we know more. We could do without you-"

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Do without me?"

Dumbledore held up a hand, as if to take his last statement back. He carefully reworded what he'd said. "We could make it work if you wanted to leave, is what I meant to say. You know we couldn't do without you."

"Then why would I leave?" Severus said.

"Weren't you listening when I told you that the next time you go back, you're a dead man? _He_ made that clear." Kingsley said in an urgent whisper.

"Not a _dead _man, Kingsley. Punished, yes, killed, no." Severus paused and allowed his head to drop to the hand propped on the table next to him. "I'll survive." He said.

The room fell silent, and Dumbledore sighed. "We can't force you to quit, Severus." He said. "But if you're doing this in attempt to redeem yourself, you needn't. You know you were forgiven long ago. You were forgiven when you stepped into my office."

Severus gave an exaggerated role of his head and stood up. "And if I hadn't begun spying then, do understand what could have happened? We've saved lives this way; we probably saved your precious Harry Potter."

"That's beside the point, Severus—"

"If the Potters hadn't been warned, they would have proceeded with their plans to leave the child with Black, and both he and the child would have been killed. That was because of _me, _Albus. Do you really want to take the chance of missing something as important as that?"

Harry opened his eyes, and was grateful for the fact that he was lying on his side, facing away from the three men. His jaw had dropped… Snape had been the spy who'd tried to help his parents.

**Author's notes **

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

If you have reviewed and want your responses, I have been posting them on my homepage, which you will find the link to in my author's profile.

Also, if you have not read the author's note at the beginning of chapter 1, you may want to, as it explains some things some of you have been asking about.

Thank you again, you're all brilliant and I love you platonically!

Please review, when I go into my email and there are all these reviews, it really does put a huge smile on my face. I'm really glad you guys review, even if you don't have much to say. It helps so much to know that my story is going well, and its so motivational. Once again I beseech you to please review, for just that purpose.

Love you all platonically! Keep reviewing, and I promise to keep writing.


	11. Connection

SC1-11

Chapter 11

Connection

Author's notes at bottom

"Kingsley, you and I have business to attend to." Dumbledore said after a moment, surveying Severus' resolute expression. "Severus, will you come see me tomorrow night after your meeting with Voldemort?"

"If you wish it," Severus said flatly, clearly still agitated by their previous conversation.

"I do," Dumbledore said, concern again working its way into his tone. "That way I will know you are safe, at the very least, even if you won't talk with me."

"Albus," Severus said, lowering his voice. "I will thank you to stop coddling me as though I am a child. I am a full-grown man, quite capable of making my own decisions and I expect you to respect them, even if you don't agree with them… especially in the presence of others."

The two held eye contact for a moment, Dumbledore seemingly wanting to reason this, and Severus seemingly daring him to. After a short moment, Dumbledore nodded, concealing the small pang of hurt he'd felt at Severus' words. He normally sensed that the significantly younger wizard didn't mind Dumbledore's fatherly character, even if he did act annoyed. This time, however, he seemed seriously bothered by it.

"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore finally said consentingly. "You know I only worry about you."

Severus tried not to look into the light blue eyes of the man standing before himself; they reflected obvious hurt. He hadn't meant to upset Dumbledore; he only wished he wouldn't talk down to him in front of the people he worked with on a daily basis. In his mind, it only gave his colleagues more incentive to feel above him, and that he could never put up with.

When Severus looked up, Dumbledore was standing at the door, Kingsley a few feet behind him.

"You will let us know if Harry's condition changes?" Dumbledore asked.

"Who said I intend to stay?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, if you hear anything then." Dumbledore said, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. He and Kingsley Shackelbolt turned and left the hospital wing.

"Professor?" Immediately came a voice from behind.

Severus turned around and saw Harry trying desperately to prop himself up on his pillow.

"Don't strain yourself, Potter, you'll only worsen your condition." Severus said, moving towards his bed and then adjusting his pillows for him.

Harry watched his professor fixing his bed in contemplation, a frown creasing his brow.

"You saved me, didn't you?" Harry said, startling Severus as he was tightening the bed sheet that had come loose.

The stunned Potions Master looked up at him, caught off guard.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Harry asked, thinking of the many times in the past he'd been saved by this man.

Severus still was at a loss for words, but he recovered shortly, and pulled over a chair. "I expect you want to know about what happened in the cavern," he said, changing the topic. His tone was rough and callous, and Harry blinked several times before responding.

"If it's not too much of a burden, _sir_." Harry finally responded, put off by Severus' begrudged tone.

"You're not a burden Potter," Severus said, tightening his lips and frowning in an air of annoyance. "A pain, but not particularly a burden."

There was a short pause before Severus continued. "Now, I'll answer your questions, if you'll answer mine. _How_ did you end up where I found you?"

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know," He mumbled. "All I did was take a walk up to the astronomy tower, and one minute I was sitting there admiring this great bird, and the next it was carrying me away. It was flying right over me, but I didn't think anything of it until it sunk it's talons into my shoulders… I never knew Lucius Malfoy was an animagus."

"Leave it to you, Potter, to get kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy in bird form on your first night at Hogwarts." Severus said dryly, smirking slightly.

"Oh yes," Harry said sarcastically. "And I did it just to spite you."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Severus.

"I bet you wouldn't." said Harry. He was watching Severus closely; the man wasn't really the same as he normally was. Again, Harry asked, "Why do you keep doing it?"

"Doing what?" Severus said exasperatedly, frowning.

"Saving me," said Harry. "And risking your life to do it. Why?"

There was a long pause.

"Because you always need saving." Severus finally replied plainly, before abruptly changing topics. "Now, Potter, I really don't have all day, so if you want to know what happened…"

"Right," Harry said, deciding not to press the issue. "Well, the last thing I really remember was being thrown onto the floor in the circle of Death Eaters."

Severus nodded, remembering the horrific event. "You were quite a mess, Potter." He said, frowning. "What did they do to you?"

"Whatever they could," Harry replied quietly. He didn't like admitting that he'd been their victim for hours; he'd been completely helpless. It made him feel weak, which was the last thing he wanted Snape to think of him. He hardly needed another negative trait added to "the list of Harry's faults".

"When we got down to the potion's lab, I told you to struggle, if you remember," Severus started, respecting the fact that Harry didn't want to talk about the Death Eaters and their cruel ways. "Lucky for you, you did, and so Malfoy was already under the preconceived notion that you were giving us trouble. I pocketed one of the main ingredients for the potion they were asking me to brew, and then sent Malfoy off to collect another one. From there, I contacted Kingsley Shackelbolt, who took my place while I got you out of there."

Harry nodded. "What happened at the water's edge?" He asked, only scarcely remembering the details of the incident.

Severus hesitated, and then said, "You were passed out when I jumped into the water, and unfortunately, it made you come round. You inhaled the water, and I had to revive you. From there we made our way up the steps, got here, you almost died again, you get the picture." Severus finished quickly, really wanting to avoid bringing up the fact that he'd saved Harry's life yet again.

Harry looked down at his hands, smiling slightly at Severus' dry humor.

"Always have to be the center of attention, don't you?" Severus added, smirking innocuously.

Harry looked up, about to respond, when he noticed Severus' hand go to his left arm.

Severus looked at Harry, and seeing instantly that he understood, gave him a curt nod and rose to leave.

"Don't go," Harry said, unable to explain why he was saying this.

"Potter, I have to."

"He's going to hurt you; you know that, don't you?"

Severus considered Harry for a moment, wondering why he suddenly seemed to care.

"We all have to make sacrifices." Severus finally said a moment later. "Be sure to call Madame Pomfrey if you start feeling unwell again, or if you have any of those odd scar twingings or visions."

With that, Severus turned and left the hospital wing, leaving Harry to himself. With nothing left to do, Harry rolled over to his side, and closed his eyes. He tried not to think about the sick feeling he'd gotten in his stomach when Snape had walked out that door.

Author's notes

Would you believe this chapter gave me the worst case of writers block since the one that started in January and ended in April? Seriously, it took me two weeks to write chapter 12, and then very next day I wrote all of 13, revised it, and started on 14. GRR… it's frustrating. Anyways, it looks like I'm going to be updating once a week, around Wednesday or Tuesday. However, it really does depend on reviews. I may post more often if I feel pressure to do so, but for now, I think once a week will have to do seeing as how chp 12 decided to be difficult… but I can't wait for you guys to read it!

Let me know when you are reading :), It's so encouraging, and sitting down and reading reviews is often the highlight of my day, and it's just as fun writing the responses.

So, wrote chapter 13 … I'll tell you all that they start finding out at the end of that chapter… and then I left a nice cliffhanger cuz I know how you love those…

I love you all platonically! (That is my official signature.)


	12. Dreams of Old

Chapter 12

Dreams of Old

Author's notes at bottom

Severus left the castle in a very strange manner. The abnormality was not in the way he physically left, but the emotional state in which he did so. More than anything, Severus was shocked by the desire he had to stay with Harry. He wanted to seat himself next to his bedside and watch him uninterruptedly, while he was awake or asleep, to make sure nothing else could happen to him. The possibility that what he was feeling for the boy was actually genuine concern nerved him… what was more, he reminded himself of someone. He reminded himself of Dumbledore.

Ever since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts, Severus had loathed the very thought of him. He hated staring into the green eyes that belonged to his former wife, and seeing them surrounded by James Potter's face twisted into an expression of dumb defiance. He hated hearing the boy's voice when he would talk back, he hated every disrespectful glance the boy aimed at him. He hated that he could yell at the boy and berate him to no limit, and the child hardly even gave him the satisfaction of a response. He hated that he was glorified by the entire Wizarding world for a victory he hadn't even claimed by his own means… Lily was the only reason the detestable child was alive, and yet he received all the fame and respect of the public because she died to save him.

Most of all, Severus hated the constant reminder that she had chosen Harry over him, James over him… she had laid down her life for two people who'd been with her only a year or two. Severus had been there for her much longer; they'd shared everything, and he had treated her well. He'd given her his devotion, his servitude, his trust… he'd even gone to dinner with her muggle family just so he could ask for her hand as she'd always dreamed would happen. He'd given her all of this, and still it hadn't been enough to resist spending the night with the wonderful "James Potter". Nine months of pain and suffering during pregnancy was all James and Harry had given her, and yet she'd given the ultimate sacrifice for them.

This burden weighed heavily on Severus every day. Over the years, he'd come to accept the fact that he simply hadn't been good enough for her. He'd bitterly pushed it to the back of his mind… but he never truly forgot the significance of the pain he'd been caused by it. He still felt it; it was part of the reason for his overall malevolent demeanor. He'd always had his dark, sarcastic, often vengeful traits, but not until he'd been betrayed by Lily had they taken domination over his personality.

Yet he'd spent his years chasing after the troublemaker of a boy spawned by her and her lover, protecting him, watching out for him, and yes, occasionally prowling just to see if he could punish him. As he hadn't been able to sixteen years ago, he couldn't justify allowing death to come to the boy simply because of a harbored resentment. He deliberately took the role of guardian angel to the boy, though he would never admit it to be anything more than a desire to see him expelled. Through his cruel and sadistic ways he'd inconspicuously guided the boy through his years at Hogwarts, teaching him to always watch over his shoulder, and to learn how to deal with difficulty. Dumbledore had done his best to keep the boy out of danger, but as a great philosopher had once reasoned, it is better to be feared by your subjects than loved by them. Harry would never stay out of trouble simply because he respected Dumbledore, and Severus knew it. "Let the boy find comfort in the old man," he'd tell himself, "and I will be the one who keeps him in line."

And so Severus had done. Of course, no mistake was to be made, Severus had never liked the boy, and he had never felt anything remotely close to care for the boy. That was what was scaring him now; for the first time, he did care about Harry. He wanted to help him; he wanted to keep him safe, more out of virtue than duty. Seeing the boy so helpless and vulnerable, eyes completely devoid of anything but fear had stirred something in Severus. An almost fatherly feeling… similar to the one with which Dumbledore often fostered him.

Severus shook his head and tried to push the thought out of his mind. He certainly felt anything but "fatherly" towards the boy. He blamed his sudden attitude on the shock of the news he'd recently received. In his longing for the return of his child and wife, his emotions were vulnerable. There was no other explanation; he was doing little more than projecting that desire onto the nearest recipient of his fatherly feelings, and Harry had been just that.

Satisfied with this conclusion, Severus paused outside the entrance to the cave in order to clear his mind. It would not do for the Dark Lord to learn any of what he was feeling. It would take quite a bit of explaining after the story he and Kingsley had fed to him.

Feeling prepared, Severus took a deep breath and cagily stepped into the Death Eaters part time headquarters. It was completely empty, and Severus silently berated himself for taking such a long time to get there. Now he would be punished not only for his failure, but also for his tardiness.

"Severus," Voldemort chided as he stepped into the circle. "You're late. I would think a wise man such as yourself would do what he could to draw attention away from himself. You know," he paused. "I'm starting to think your standards are lowering. First, you let Potter get away, now you're showing up late. None of the information you've given me recently has been of help… I'm pondering your necessity to this organization."

Severus bowed low, kissing the hems of his "Master's" robes. "My Lord," he said exultantly. "If you would only allow me to stay in your service. My life is indebted to you; it is my only wish to see you rise to the top."

This was, perhaps, Severus' least favorite part of being a spy. Admittedly, he sometimes enjoyed the conniving and deceiving ways he had adapted to using around the clock. It was a good way for him to play out all of his Slytherin traits without having to resort to amateur pranks as he had in his school days. However, the necessary bowing and scraping was enough to make his stomach turn. He hated the false visage of servitude and worship he had to wear, and he hated the way he had to convince the Dark Lord of his loyalty.

"You know I cannot let this go unpunished," said Voldemort, affectionately twiddling his wand.

"As rightly you shouldn't, my liege." Severus said, resisting the urge to gag at the words coming out of his mouth.

"And as you know I can't stand," He laid extra sarcasm on the word, "watching you suffer, I will leave that to the people who delight in it." A twisted smirk curled around the pale man's nearly non-existent lips.

"Wormtail!" Voldemort cried out, smiling insanely at the cowering man. "You've been begging me a long time to get rid of Severus, haven't you?"

"Y-Yes, Yes I have my Lord," Wormtail said, looking back and forth between Severus and Voldemort, eyes alight with excitement.

"Choose five others in this circle, and you may go and take care of him properly." Voldemort said, turning his attention back on Severus. "You know you deserve this, Severus." He said quietly.

"Worse, my Lord. I thank you for your mercy."

"You see, Wormtail? That is the mark of a faithful servant. Be more like him, and maybe you'll actually amount to something one day…" Voldemort paused and surveyed him disdainfully. "Though, I doubt it. Take him away."

Voldemort stepped back and watched with both apathy and sick pleasure as Severus was led away to the torture chambers.

"Oh," Voldemort called after them. "And just see to it that he doesn't die. He's worth ten of you, and if you do anything irreparable, I'll make sure the loss is repaid."

Severus had a very strong suspicion that Voldemort was doing all he could to increase these men's hatred for him. He would praise Severus and shoot every one of them down so that they would be all the more cruel in their torture of him.

And so the process began.

Severus was bruised, bloodied, and battered. The bigger men used their brute strength to injure him, repeatedly punching and kicking him, pulling him up by his hair only to throw him against the wall and laugh as he fell back down again. He was cut multiple times; it was the slow process of bloodletting that weakened him most. Some of the more crafty men in the group used various curses to strike him, and there was no mercy. Before long, Severus had reached a state worse than ever before. He lied there on the floor, gasping for air, blood and fluid draining from his body, limbs twitching with every slight movement made in the room. As was their custom, none of the men did anything to help him; they left him there to escape on his own.

The door was wide open; Severus knew that all he had to do was muster up enough energy to walk through it. He pushed himself from the ground, and gripping the walls for support, he stumbled towards the light. Without anything to hold onto, however, he soon collapsed, and he knew he would not be able to get back up.

Severus fumbled for the coin in his pocket, and with what little energy he had left, he etched the initials "A.D." into it. He then slipped into the realm of unconsciousness, hoping Dumbledore would soon arrive.

------

Albus Dumbledore was pacing back and forth in his office. How could he have done this? He had planned to tell Severus of his relationship to Harry several days earlier. He'd had a whole story planned out; he would tell the young professor that he had only just learned of the relationship when trying to perform a new blood protection spell and it had revealed the seemingly impossible news. However, when Severus had seen Lily's memory in the pensieve, Dumbledore knew that there was no hope in still using this story. Severus was much too clever to believe him; he would have known that Dumbledore had been hiding it all these years. He couldn't stand to betray Severus' trust, and so he had taken the much lower road…. And now he was regretting it.

Dumbledore was shaken from his thoughts by the burning coin in his pocket. He reached inside and pulled it out, and saw that it was glowing with the initials "S.S." He clutched the coin and willed it to take him to the place where his former student was calling him.

-------

Harry Potter was lying in a deep sleep, a happy smile spread across his face. Had he been awake, however, his happy smile might have been replaced by an upset frown brought from speculation at his current dream.

This was because the dream playing through his mind involved two very peculiar parties, Lily, his mother, and… Snape. The oddity was, they didn't seem to be fighting. Lily wasn't standing up for him, nor was she yelling at him. They gave off an odd vibe, a vibe that insinuated more than even simple friendship…

Lily was laughing, her face lit up with an irresistible smile. Snape was watching her in amusement, his normally hard expression softened with an enigmatic grin. Harry watched as his mother told Snape an elaborate story in great excitement, gesturing animatedly with her hands as she did so. Every once in a while, she would stop and look at Snape expectantly, and he would, with a smirk, mimic her latest hand gesture to indicate that he was following.

Harry found himself smiling at his mother's happy condition, and moved closer to see exactly what was going on. However, he had hardly taken one step when he felt himself being pulled from his dream. There were voices around him, noise.

Suddenly, Harry awoke with a start. The hospital doors had swung open, and he tried to sit up in his bed to see what was going on. Someone was being brought in. Harry blinked several times and had to rub his eyes quite a bit to realize that it was Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey bringing in… Snape.

Despite the sharp, stabbing pain that rang through his ribs, Harry sat bolt upright. He had known it was a bad idea for Snape to go, and he had warned him not to. Dumbledore placed Snape into the bed next to him and immediately began helping Madame Pomfrey to treat him.

"Will he be alright?" Harry asked, peeking around Dumbledore.

"We can only guess," said Madame Pomfrey gravely, pulling down various medical objects.

"Severus has come through a lot, Poppy," Dumbledore said indubitably. "I'm sure he'll pull through this."

"I certainly hope you're right, headmaster." She said, yet with a slight waver of doubt in her voice. She walked around Harry's bed.

"Take this," She said, handing him a potion. "It is a light slumbering potion. It would probably be best if you were asleep for now."

Harry didn't really want to take it. He wanted to stay awake and see what was to come of his professor. However, Madame Pomfrey was eyeing him with a very challenging glare, and he dared not to defy her. He downed the potion and allowed himself to fall back onto the pillows, slipping into another period of rest.

Once again, Harry was in what appeared to be somebody else's dream, and it involved the same two people as last time. This time, he was much closer though. And this time, they were seated at what appeared to be a small kitchen table.

The house he was in was very large, but the rooms (from what he could tell) were small and evenly spaced throughout. As he looked around, he saw that he was right in guessing that this was some sort of kitchen. It was decorated in fairly cheery colors; the walls were a pale yellow, the counters and window frames were a lovely taupe color. The table was a light oak, stood on a white frame, and was surrounded by four similar chairs.

Harry seated himself at the table where they were and watched with interest. He was slightly more conscious than he had been in his previous dream, and he wasn't quite so blissfully unaware of the bizarreness of the situation.

"I don't know, Lily." Snape was saying. "You know, I spent so much time trying to convince him that I was something great, and the whole while I was overlooked for those miserable prats. Why bother now? Why waste my energy?"

"Because it's the right thing to do." Lily said gently, placing hand lightly on top of his forearm. "Dumbledore is a good man, and he has confessed to me his regrets in paying so little attention to you during your school years. But now he's trying to make amends, he's offering you this job… it's a great opportunity."

"A great opportunity to do what?" Snape said bitterly.

"To teach children defense against the Dark Arts, of course." Lily said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And you're the first person he came to for the job. It pays well, and it's a very respectable position. The applications are flying in, Severus, don't turn this down. You love this subject, think about it."

"But I don't want to work for him." Snape said determinedly. "I could find work somewhere else, or we could just settle down. There's no harm in not working for now, while we're young. We could just enjoy ourselves."

Lily looked uncomfortable as she shifted in her seat and let her hands drop to her lap. "That's the thing, Severus. I've already accepted a job elsewhere. I mean, I was so sure you would want to take this one, well, I didn't want to end up bored while you were off teaching all the time."

"You took another job?" Snape asked, brow lifted in surprise. "Where?"

"The Department of Mysteries." Lily said. "Dumbledore reckons it'll be a good in on the ministry if a time comes when we need one, and it would keep me out of harms way. Most never dare to attack an unspeakable, they're too valuable."

"Right," Snape said, nodding and sitting back in his chair.

"You're not angry, are you?" Lily asked, frowning.

Snape shook his head. "Not angry. But I don't want to take that job with Dumbledore. Maybe in the future…"

"Severus, the job will be filled by then. Wait and you'll end up in Potions or something, seeing as how you have a knack for that."

"I hate potions." Snape said quietly.

"I know," Lily said with a chuckle. "But with your aptitude, that's where you'll be."

Snape murmured something inaudibly and raised an eyebrow. Lily, looking slightly peeved with him, got up from her chair and busied herself with a half-sliced apple on the counter.

Once again, Harry really wanted to watch more. However, the potion he'd been given was wearing off, and he couldn't stay in the dream any longer. Against his will he awoke, and looked around. The sun was already setting; he'd been asleep longer than he'd thought. He glanced over to the bed next to him, and saw that it was empty.

"Madame Pomfrey," He said to the woman fixing beds across the room. "What became of Professor Snape?"

"Oh, he's alright. A little bruised, still, but alright. Fool of a man, I swear, he's so lucky he heals well (it's due to all those bloody potions he takes to keep him ticking)… Well, he and Professor Dumbledore seemed to think that his condition was not a serious enough matter to keep them from attending to their 'private affairs'. They are speaking in Professor Snape's quarters."

Harry nodded politely, and then rolled onto his side.

"So," Harry thought to himself. "That was the reason Snape hated his job. He'd hated potions, and got the subject by second choice." But what had Snape been doing with his mother there? It almost seemed like they had been… in love.

--------

Thanks to everyone who reviewed! You guys keep me going, you really do. Cookies to **Dollface783 **who got my reference last chapter to the movie Truly Madly Deeply with Alan Rickman and Juliet Stevenson.

So, here's the thing- you are all wonderful, and I have 105 reviews right now. I want to thank you all soo much for that, and thank you to (again) **Dollface783 **who was reviewer one hundred. I'm getting up there again- not as high as before, but it's great that I've reached a hundred again, and I'm so glad you're all reading.

So, characterization ok? Plot not too overdone or common? As I've said before, my biggest concerns are characterization and uniqueness. Hope I'm doing alright with that!

Sorry if I seemed like I was begging for reviews before, I hadn't gotten rid of my old authors notes from when I first posted this story, and I admit, I cared way too much back then whether or not I got reviews. Also- when I said before I would update depending on reviews, that was more because reviews often give me the motivation to write, so at times, when motivation is hard to come by, I won't update as soon. Now I'm just glad you read, and decided I should be focusing more on the story than the reward.

ALSO: If you have questions, please ask, because sometimes I've failed to mention something or you make me realize that I will need to clarify something in the future. I always print the reviews and look over the chapters as I read them a second time so that I know what you're talking about, and it helps me to know my story better.

**On the torture of Severus: **Yeah, I know I didn't include much detail in Severus' torture scene. You'll probably notice I never showed Harry's either. It pains me to write such things, and it would be fast and rushed because going into detail makes me feel, like, twisted or something. Plus, whenever I read fanfiction, I wish people would stay away from describing endless torture because it seems so unprofessional unless the details play a key element. If it's something like, "His freshly inflicted wounds seethed with pain and his broken ribs burned fiercely as he desperately attempted to drag himself towards the entrance with a hope of escape. His suffering was in vain, however, for he had not made it far when he felt himself being grabbed and pulled back." … that would serve a purpose, to show the struggle he faced in his escape… see what I mean? So sorry if any of you feel cheated, but now you know why. (By the way, I totally pulled that sentence or two out of nowhere, but I kinda like it, so if you see it in any future chapters… lifts eyes to ceiling and looks around innocently)

Review responses are at my homepage!

I love you platonically! Thanks for reading!


	13. A Final Solution

SC1-13

Chapter 13

A Final Solution

Author's notes at bottom

"Careful," Dumbledore said as he helped Severus lower himself to the couch. "Poppy'll have our heads if any further damage is caused."

Severus allowed himself a grim smirk as he gingerly sank to the cool leather surface. "On the other hand," he said wryly, "the inward battle she would face in upsetting an injured patient might be amusing."

"That it might," Dumbledore agreed, sitting down across from Severus. There was a considerably long silence. Both men seemed to be reflecting on their individual thoughts, and each wondering what to say.

"I think we both know what has to be discussed." Dumbledore said quietly, watching Severus closely.

"Maybe you're right." Severus said wearily. "Maybe I should just, stop. After all, it's not worth my life to find out important information such as, oh, how to save the Wizarding world. We could deal with the Dark Lord taking over, but a world without me? Heavens," he scoffed, satirically shaking his head, eyes wide as though just the thought were appalling.

"Now really, Severus, is such acerbity necessary?" said Dumbledore with an admonishing shake of his head. "Simply allow me to point out that spy work is not the only task we need you around for. You provide the mainstream of potions we use, some of which have saved our lives when we needed it most. You are very important to the order in more ways than you realize… and you're important as a friend."

"A friend to whom?" Severus sneered.

"To me," Dumbledore said firmly. "To your co-workers… some of your students."

"My students?" Severus asked with his eyebrows raised high. "And they being…? Albus, the entire school hates me, it's no secret."

"If some of the students are less than fond of you, you bring that upon yourself." Dumbledore said seriously, looking over his half moon spectacles. "But some of them look to you for guidance, the members of your own house, for instance."

Severus rolled his eyes. "They look to me because in comparison to the muggle loving fool their parents make you out to be, I'm the only teacher in the school with half a wit. The only one who has any sense. They don't look up to me, Dumbledore. They see me as someone on their side."

"Draco Malfoy?" Dumbledore suggested.

"Are you joking?" Severus said, an ironic expression gracing his face. "His father is Lucius Malfoy, one of, if not _the_ most notorious Death Eater in the Dark Lord's circle. For Draco to follow in any footsteps other than his father's would be less likely than for my entire house to join the order."

"What about what you told me at the beginning of the year?" Dumbledore said, an air of wisdom delicately present in his calm voice.

"What about it?" said Severus. "You know what happened. In all likelihood, they knew they couldn't touch Potter at his relatives and used Draco's warning as a method of removing him."

"A good theory," said Dumbledore, nodding his head to the side. "But think of the good that could come from giving Draco the benefit of the doubt."

"I won't be doing anything to help him," said Severus. "I can't risk it; that could be exactly what the Dark Lord is waiting for. If he comes to me, I'll be willing to guide him, but unless that's the case, I'm afraid he'll have to do it all on his own."

"Well, it wouldn't _be_ a huge risk if you gave up spying." Dumbledore said. "And if he were loyal to us, than he could take your place as spy, and we would still get our information."

Severus jaw dropped, but he quickly replaced it. He'd walked right into that one. Dumbledore had a point; Draco would make a much more convenient spy… but who was to say the boy would stick with their side?

Dumbledore looked hard at Severus, brow furrowed, and started softly, "Think of the boy who was coaxed into joining Voldemort nearly twenty years ago because he felt he had no other way out. Think what might have happened if he had known how strong the other side was, that he didn't have to give anything up to save his loved ones or himself. Severus, think how you could prevent the same thing from happening to another boy just by relinquishing this position."

There was a long silence, and when it was obvious that Severus had nothing to say to this, Dumbledore went on.

"Voldemort is becoming more and more alert and penetrating more than the surface of every given situation." Dumbledore said, standing in front of the fireplace and peering sternly down at Severus. "Unless, by some miracle, you evade his growing intelligence, he will soon discover you. I don't want to take that chance."

"And I don't want to take the chance of missing anything important." Severus said unwaveringly. "Just tonight, I may have found out some of the most important information that we've uncovered so far, and the order should throw that kind of resource away just so I can be safe? You yourself said it once, you have to choose between what's right and what's easy. I once chose what was easy, and look what the result was. Now I have to do what's right.

"I'm not quitting." Severus now said in an unarguable tone. "Now, I think it's best we move on to more important subject matters, like the Dark Lord's ideas. That is why we came down here, is it not?"

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed in frustration. "What news?"

"His plans are still the same," Severus said, rubbing his head and pulling out a parchment containing all of the information he needed to remember. "But he's now spoken of a new way in which he might protect himself, which in turn tells us—"

"What we need to do to defeat him." Dumbledore finished softly, stroking his long beard.

"Precisely," said Severus, scrutinizing the parchment in front of him. "It seems the Dark Lord has lost some faith in the average spell work as he used to rely on. Since two years ago, which was the only year in which his plans managed to work, he has become obsessed with the power of potions. Fortunately, defensive potions protect in much more narrow categories than the broad ones spells do, due to the many different variants that can be used and the unique property of each potion. I believe we can use this to manipulate his progress in defending himself; I can feed him false information and deliberately fail to mention the potions which would be most helpful to him."

Dumbledore was nodding, looking deep in thought. "Did he mention anything specific that he's aiming to defend himself against?"

"Harry Potter," said Severus, and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.

"I could have guessed that much," said Dumbledore.

"And yet you asked," Severus said, shaking his head. "Actually, Albus, that is being the problem. Where we run into a major obstacle is by the steps he's already taken, steps that will prevent most anything we could have hoped would enable Potter to defeat him. By taking Potter's blood to revive himself, he shares much of the power that differentiated the two. They are more connected than they have ever been, and if Potter is to survive till the end, we'll have to find some way to break this connection."

"Will learning occlumency help?" Dumbledore asked, looking worried.

"Only to keep the Dark Lord out of his mind, and bring Potter more intellectual strength and discipline, if such a feat is possible. Beyond that, it can provide no means of defeating him. There is one potion that the Dark Lord mentioned tonight… but I really don't see how it will be of any use to us."

"What was it?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward.

"It would break the connection. It would restore all that was with Potter, all of which aspects I do not know. He was very vague. I could start further research, but I doubt it would help. It would at least return Potter's immunity to the Dark Lord's touch, and most likely rid him of the traits that they share, such as parseltongue for example."

"What is the most it would do?" Dumbledore asked.

"The most?" Severus paused, looking slightly hesitant. "It could rid him of the scar which sits upon his forehead, and return the effects of- his mother's- sacrifice if Voldemort were to strike again. At best, it would help him to deliver the final blow with nearly no effort, and then might even allow him some of the supremacies Voldemort has gained throughout the years."

Dumbledore shook his head. "But you said it would be of no use to us? It sounds to me as if it's the answer we've been searching for."

"Because we have no hope of acquiring the right materials for the potion," Severus said darkly.

"Which are?" Dumbledore pressed.

"I have not had the time to research it, as you will have guessed by now. However, the two ingredients I do know of are unreachable. The spell calls for the blood of two Death Eaters—"

"We have that," Dumbledore said.

Severus nodded, but waved his hand. "One of the two must be the boy's father."

"Which means his father would have to be a Death Eater." Dumbledore said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Severus nodded. "We'll have to find another way. Even if we could obtain a sample of his father's blood, there is no way that he could even become a Death Eater since he is now dead," there was a definite malice in his tone at this point. "However, we could still develop substances that would weaken the Dark Lord, bring him closer to mortality, take powers, provide hindrances… I really think that would be the best way to go."

There was a moment of silence. The warm light from the fireplace glowing behind Dumbledore made him look most impressive as he rubbed his chin meditatively, gazing unfocused at Severus.

"I want to try the potion." Dumbledore finally said resolutely, rising from where he was seated.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Albus, I've already explained, it's impossible—"

"It's not." Dumbledore said softly, looking directly at Severus.

A flicker of doubtful understanding crossed the Potions master's face as he registered the headmaster's words.

Author's notes

Nearly there...

Ok, guys, I realize this chapter may have been slightly boring and very confusing… don't worry. I've made everything that is extremely important clear, and there will be more clarification in later chapters.

On the Death Eaters meeting Severus was talking about: Yes, I realize I didn't include any of that information in the meeting, but I'm leaving it to you guys to figure out that I focused on the main parts of the meeting and nothing else, and Severus is basing this on a few sentences he heard from the Dark Lord compiled with information from past meetings, as well as his own extensive knowledge of Potions. I just thought I'd mention this now, because otherwise I know you guys are going to ask.

**I need an opinion: **So, I've been thinking, and… would it be horribly clichéd or fairy-talish to have Lily come back, in a sense? I wouldn't have it that she'd never died, nor that she rose from the dead… it's complicated. It would happen later, after Voldemort's demise. It possibly alludes to my inherent desire to see both Harry and Snape happy, but to me, there is incredible appeal to the idea- I'm just worried it would be far too blissful a twist, and I'm not sure it would be a wise choice. It might be like a Mary Sue to a greater degree- like the plot instead of a character. I worry that I am too blinded by my feelings to critically and neutrally decide.


	14. Chain of Memories

Chapter 14

Chain of Memories

Author's notes at bottom

"Dumbledore," Severus said in a low growl barely above a whisper, his voice shaking with fury and eyes narrowed in accusation. He didn't call the man by his first name as he had done for the past ten years, he was too angry. How could the man he trusted most have kept something like this from him? He knew that Dumbledore often kept things secret, but he hadn't expected anything this big… or this personal. His dangerous tone remained the same. "Do not tell me—" 

"Severus, you have to believe I did it to protect you," Dumbledore said. His voice was calm and authoritative, but his blue eyes held a quality of pleading that could hardly be missed.

"From what?" Severus spat. "Bollocks you did this to protect me! You did this because you're afraid that I won't bend to your will if I'm not living in my own dreary world of guilt."

"You know it's not like that," Dumbledore said in a subtly peremptory tone.

"I _knew_," Severus laid definite sarcasm on this word, "that I could trust you," He finished darkly. "Yet here we are."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Would you have taken him? Would you have accepted him?"

"It doesn't matter!" Severus exclaimed, hoisting himself from the couch with a great deal of effort. "It wasn't up for you to decide! If he's my son, I had a right to know! He had a right to know!"

Dumbledore gazed at the younger wizard, at a loss for words. Of course, he was right, but at the time, Dumbledore had known only the bitter, uncaring side of him. Severus was always guarded, careful to prevent vulnerability by closing himself off from any person he did not know and trust. Dumbledore'd had no idea what the man _could _be like, he'd only seen the dark, emotionless mask the man had worn.

"I was sure you would have harbored bitter resentment towards Lily for what she'd done," Dumbledore said quietly. "and I still believe you would have. I couldn't send Harry to that."

Severus was still staring at the Headmaster in disbelief, in shock from what he'd just been told and trembling with irrepressible rage. His skin was paling from the stress of standing up, and he discretely placed his hand on the table to steady himself, preparing a response as he did so.

"Severus, sit down, you'll hurt yourself," Dumbledore said, moving forward.

"Don't tell me to sit down," Severus said, drawing back his hand and menacingly moving towards him. "You told me I _killed my own child_, Dumbledore," He paused, looking at Dumbledore in an expression of deep anguish, as though to impress upon the man just how much agony this had caused him. It was a mark of just how close the two had become over the years that he did so, but this fact did not restrain Severus from his lividness as he barreled on. "You've always made decisions that I thought were not yours to make, but I stood behind you because I believed that— maybe you were just on some other plane of wisdom and others couldn't see the reason for your madness. I trusted your judgment, but this is beyond the pale of the things you've said and done."

"Please sit down," Dumbledore said quietly, unable to produce any words to defend himself. "If you have more to say to me, I will listen, I am willing to admit that I deserve it. But don't injure yourself. Sit down."

Severus looked at the headmaster in disbelief for a moment. He had hardly heard a word that had left Dumbledore's mouth; he was too busy dwelling on the fact that this man had known all along, yet had never said anything. He was battling his feelings of hurt and betrayal, trying instead to put on a front of anger and malice. As Dumbledore looked into his eyes, however, Severus realized the man couldn't be fooled. "Why?" he finally asked quietly, still standing.

Dumbledore looked into the pained face of the young, darkly clad wizard, and could feel only remorse. "I couldn't bring myself to tell you what I'd kept from you all these years. Lily told me on the condition that I would never say anything to you, and for a long time, I wanted to be loyal to her wishes. She told me you hit her… she told me a few things, and I'd heard a number of rumors from others. I'm now sorry to say that I blindly believed most of them. I didn't think you were the kind of man who could raise a child, especially one at such an impressionable age, who came with so much baggage. Considering the history with your father… well, I thought Harry was better off with his aunt and uncle."

"Better off?" Severus said, shaking his head. "Do you know the way those people have treated him?"

"I knew it wouldn't be easy for him," Dumbledore said. "But I never imagined they would express open hatred for him. Now I see you would have been the better choice. Over the years, I've come to know you very well, and I've seen a much better man than I'd estimated. I first thought of telling you eleven years ago, but then I thought that the transition might have been too much for Harry, and I knew you would be angry."

Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Did you ever bother to check on him? It sounds as though the thought of telling me no more than crossed your mind, much less that it was a was a plan over which you carefully debated, as you normally do when things are _important_ to you," Severus paused, treasuring the feeling of triumph upon seeing the punctured look on Dumbledore's face at this insinuation. "I would understand your reasoning much better if he had been happy with them, but he wasn't, _still isn't_. Quite the contrary, he was and is miserable. I've seen not even a tenth of his unpleasant memories with them, but for a while, they were enough to make even me pity him. Hell, I was almost tolerable of him until he went and invaded my thoughts."

"As I've already noted, Severus, I had no idea, and I hoped Lily's family would be somewhat like her. I knew Petunia hated her sister, but I thought maybe she had a good heart like Lily had. Yes, perhaps they've been unkind, but it's not as though you've been any better towards him, Severus," Dumbledore reasoned.

"And yet I'm not the one I see in the worst of his memories during occlumency," Severus poignantly stated. "I'm his teacher; he can deal with the fact that I hate him. Family is a different story… and at least I had good reason."

"Don't try to justify your treatment of the boy," Dumbledore said reprovingly, something flashing ominously behind his blue eyes. 

"Then don't try to justify your negligence!" Severus bit back, holding his gaze in a challenging glare.

The two held eye contact for a moment, and Dumbledore sighed in capitulation. "It wasn't meant as neglect. Lily—"

"I don't want to talk about her, Dumbledore," Severus said as he fought to restrain his once again rising temper. "I want to talk about the boy. So you say you didn't know about his family situation. Well, I don't remember you saying anything once you'd found out."

Dumbledore nodded in contrition. "Over time, it became easier to simply keep it from you both, and you must understand, the mutual enmity you two developed during merely his first year made it seem best to keep the news quiet. However, after last summer's events, I started to feel it would be best for him to be somewhere where he could be defended. Yes, Hogwarts will do for now, but soon he will need a home where he can really be safe. Your home is guarded from ministry wards, so he could work on his skills there and could protect himself without risking expulsion, and I have faith you would at least be decent to him. I've been considering this for a year now, and the consideration has only grown stronger since Sirius' death. I'm worried about him, Severus. He needs someone there for him, someone to care, and perhaps-"

"You're right," Severus said, voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance, "I'll be a fine replacement for his beloved godfather, I shall hasten straight away so that we do not lose any more bonding time."

Dumbledore ignored him and continued. "Malfoy's warning solidified my decision, though, and the night you came to my office, I was planning to tell you that I'd just discovered the relation between you two. However, once you saw the memory, I knew you would never believe such a story. I couldn't betray your trust… so I—" 

"You lied," Severus finished darkly. "The great wizard who is afraid of nothing was frightened of losing some of his credibility, so he lied."

"To be afraid of nothing is a quality I never claimed to possess," Dumbledore said softly. "And I wasn't afraid of losing credibility… I was afraid of losing your trust and companionship," He lowered his head. "But I'm afraid I may have accomplished that anyway."

"Maybe you have," Severus said morosely. "Or maybe you haven't." He stared Dumbledore in the eyes, trying to determine the sincerity of the man's words. No matter how hard he looked, however, could he find anything within those swirling orbs of blue besides pleading compassion. He didn't know if his trust would ever return to the man. He did know that he couldn't hate him forever; Dumbledore was the one person who had stuck with him and given him his undeserved trust when no one else would. Severus had been more open with him than with anyone since Lily. However, he couldn't get past the fact that this man would have allowed him to suffer so much just to spare himself, and he wondered how many times it had happened in the past.

"You have your pensieve?" Dumbledore asked, interrupting Severus' thoughts.

"In my bedroom, why?" Severus questioned suspiciously.

Dumbledore didn't answer, he simply responded by retrieving the pensieve. He set it on the table, and lifted his wand to his head. He extracted a single memory, placed it inside the bowl, and looked at Severus purposefully.

"It's my conversation with Lily," Dumbledore said quietly. "You deserve to know what happened."

Severus looked at him strangely for a moment, and then slowly approached the swirling substance. After a moment of apprehension and a sideways glance at Dumbledore, he leaned forward, and was soon being pulled headfirst into the memory. He had very much anxiety for what he was about to see. He didn't know if he did want to see it… maybe he was better off not knowing what had transpired between the two that would cause a man of such morality to pursue such deceit.

Severus landed on the hard ground of Dumbledore's office, and looked around. It had hardly changed at all; the only difference in this parallel universe was the absence of a few trinkets and much less clutter. The portraits were arranged on the walls in exactly the same manner, the same amount of warm light streamed through the open windows. The furnished wood was still a deep maple that provided a cheerful, welcoming glow, and the aged yet polished furniture stood in all the proper places to match their positions today.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, poring over the papers in front of him with an expression of deep vexation. He reached up and scratched his head pensively, frowning at the yellowing parchments spread across the glossy wooden surface.

Severus watched him for a moment, before a small knock on the door commanded both men's attention. Dumbledore looked towards the door, an expression of mild agitation present on his face. Casting one last glance at his work, Dumbledore rose and moved towards the door.

When the door was pulled open, Severus was not in the least bit surprised by what he saw. Dumbledore, however, was.

Standing there, a disheveled mess, was Lily Evans. She was trembling slightly, and her cheeks and eyes were a dark, tear streaked red. She was clutching her arms to herself as she peered behind Dumbledore and looked around to see that he was alone.

"Lily?" Dumbledore said softly, looking down on his former student, slightly stunned at her arrival. "Are you alright?"

Lily shrugged. "Can I come in?" She asked in a quiet, hoarse voice, a telltale sign that she'd been crying for quiet a while.

"Of course," said Dumbledore, standing aside and closing the door behind her. Severus watched from a detached perspective as Dumbledore led her to his desk and sat her down in front of it.

She looked as though her stomach were literally turning over inside of her, upset to the brink of nausea.

"I need your help," Lily started in the same quiet, dejected voice. "But I won't ask a thing of you unless you can promise me one thing."

Dumbledore nodded graciously, yet was clearly worried about what he might be agreeing to. "What is it?"

Lily looked up slowly. Her face was set in a stony, despondent expression as she looked straight into his eyes and said in a voice more serious than ever, "Severus can never know."

Severus tore his eyes from her face, unable to bear the absolute despair present on it because it stirred something in him. He much preferred the depressed apathy with which he was watching the situation to the guilt he felt from knowing he caused it.

"Know what, exactly?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

"As you know from taking me to St. Mungo's last week, I'm carrying his child," Lily started, rising from her seat. "It had been two weeks since I'd last seen him, and I received an owl from him saying it would be a week more. I already could hardly restrain myself from shouting the news to strangers on the street, and I didn't think I could stand holding it inside anymore… but I wanted him to be the first person I told," She paused, apparently to shake the rush of sadness this statement brought.

"Last night, I went to his other home to see him," Lily continued after a moment, still pacing the room. "I checked for him several times, and was thrilled when I finally found him home late in the evening. Nothing _seemed_ out of the ordinary," She said shakily, choking back a sob. "But then, I was so excited, I probably wouldn't have noticed. But we went inside, and when he reached to pour me a cup of tea, his left sleeve fell back, and I saw something that disturbed me deeply."

She noticeably blinked back several tears before continuing. "Headmaster… I saw the dark mark on him. I don't know when he did it, or why, really. But I can't bring my child into that kind of life. I won't put either of us in danger like that."

Tears were rolling down her cheeks. "I love my husband, but I just can't do it," She paused. "I couldn't tell him after that, I couldn't, and I knew it would take a lot to get him to concede to a divorce so suddenly. None of the stories I thought of would have explained the baby, and he can't ever know he has a child. It had to be believable, and enough to make him end things and want nothing to do with me or the baby."

"What did you tell him, Lily?" Dumbledore asked uneasily.

Lily ran a shaky hand through her hair and looked down as it fell back to her lap. "I said I'd slept with James… that the baby was his," She started crying again.

"Oh, my dear," Dumbledore said, eyes full of concern. "I feared this might happen. But it's not unchangeable; I really think if we just talked him through it, he would—"

"He hit me, Dumbledore," Lily bitterly cut him off, choking back her sobs. "He knocked me to the floor and threw me out of the house," She shook her head. "I don't know exactly what I expected, but that wasn't it. I suppose I thought he cared enough about me to have me go my separate way, and be bitter towards me for it later. But he was livid, violent. I've always told myself he was different, that I helped him to keep from becoming his father. I suppose not."

A horrible pang hit inside Severus' chest at this, and he could not ignore the rapidly sinking feeling in his stomach, as though someone had just pulled the floor out from underneath his feet.

Lily stood up and walked across the room, taking Dumbledore's pensieve from the shelf. She raised her wand to her dark red head, and drew the silvery substance of memory from it.

"He'll never forgive me," She said quietly, turning back around and facing Dumbledore. "And I don't want him to make our child suffer in my memory… I never would have thought he would before, but then, I never saw this coming either. James has agreed to marry me, so that no one will suspect anything against my story."

"The memory?" Dumbledore questioned.

"A replica," Lily responded. "You're the only one who knows about this, other than James and myself. We're naming Sirius godfather, but I don't trust him with this information. He'd use it to taunt Severus, and I won't let that happen. If anything is to happen, I know you'll take care of things accordingly. This is so you'll understand what words cannot say. Then you'll understand what I have asked of you in this letter," She held up a thick envelope.

"Child—" Dumbledore said, taking a few steps towards her.

"I must go," Lily said, shaking her head. "I must go."

She placed the long letter on top of his desk, and looked at him for a moment. "I can't go back to him," She said. "But if you can help him, I pray you will. I can't live with the fact that he's playing pawn to Voldemort; it's killing me inside. Please, for his sake, bring him back to our side."

Dumbledore hesitated to answer, knowing his response was the only thing for which she was waiting to walk out the door. He wanted her to stay; he wanted to find out more about what had happened so he could try to help her. Still, he said, "I'll do what I can, Lily."

Lily nodded. "Thank you," And with that, she left his office.

The memory had ended, and Severus felt himself being pulled back up through the dark mist. When he'd arrived back in his own quarters, he said nothing, he simply sank to the couch, looking drained of all energy and overwhelmed by the weight of the situation.

There was a tense silence. Severus could feel Dumbledore's gaze on him as he contemplated his thoughts on what he'd just seen. It hurt him to know he'd caused Lily so much grief; and what was worse, she had still cared about him even after the way he'd treated her. She had still beseeched Dumbledore to help him get out of trouble, even though it would serve her no benefit. But then, that was Lily. No matter how cruelly one acted towards her, she would never wish them any real harm.

"What do you plan to do?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"About Potter?" Severus asked flatly.

"Will you approach him?" Dumbledore asked. "He's a bright boy. He will find out eventually, but I think he would prefer to hear it from you. It will be less difficult in the long run if you tell him now, instead of allowing him to come to the truth by himself. Such an event would only further his feelings of betrayal."

"Funny," Severus said bitingly, "How you give advice that you don't follow yourself."

Dumbledore looked away. "I'm sorry, Severus. I truly am."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "'Sorry' doesn't change anything. It never has."

"Maybe not for you," Dumbledore paused. "Maybe because you don't hear it enough."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Don't analyze me, Dumbledore. 'Sorry' doesn't change anything because you can't take back a lie, and I don't forgive easily."

"And neither does Harry," Dumbledore added. "Severus, talk to him. If only to inform him, talk to him."

"If only to inform him," Severus scoffed. "Oh, yes, that'll go over well. 'Ten points from Gryffindor- Oh, and I almost forgot; Harry, I'm your father, your mother and I were married but she left me when I got my dark mark, and I got angry and hit her so she never came back. See you in Potions on Monday.' Please, Dumbledore, I know you better than that. You're hoping for some father/son relationship that you can smile at and say, 'Oh, I've done well here."

"This isn't for me," Dumbledore said, his tone the sternest it had been during the entire conversation. "This is for him. I'm worried about him; the combination of his school and home life can't be healthy, and he may well turn out to be the most powerful wizard in history. Now that Sirius is dead, he has no one as any sort of father figure, any sort of confidant."

"He has his friends, the Weasley family," Severus said. "He has you."

"Harry won't come to me," Dumbledore said. "He hasn't in the past, and I doubt he will in the future. I think he feels judged when he talks to me about anything personal, or maybe he feels like I have bigger things to worry about. Either way, he needs someone to care for him in his life."

"And if I tell him only to inform him, with no means of creating a relationship, do you think that will comfort him!" Severus exclaimed, eyes widened at the audacity of this notion. "I've known of this not five minutes, and you're asking me for a decision on how to ease him into it? I haven't even accepted it yet! You hide this from me for years, allow me to grow to hate the child, and then expect me to forget all of that?"

"You have to be the adult here, Severus," Dumbledore said authoritatively.

"I can be the adult, but you're asking me to be a father," Severus said. "I don't even know the boy."

"You have for the past five years-"

"If the boy I've known for the past five years is the boy who's supposed to be my son," Severus started loudly, drowning out Dumbledore's voice of growing frustration, "then I don't know if I want to be his father."

Dumbledore looked away, shaking his head in disapproval. "Sirius loved him from the moment he set eyes on him, and he'd never even spoken with him. He saw the best in Harry because it's what you do for the people close to you, the people who are supposed to be your family… I did for you, and you needed that. So does Harry, he wouldn't have made it through the last two years if not for Sirius."

"Don't talk to me about Black," Severus said in spiteful remembrance. "That's not the topic. I don't want to think about any of them."

Dumbledore considered him for a moment. "Severus, why do you go on holding such grudges? I can understand the way you've felt about James Potter, but why hold the rest in such bitter memory?"

"I think you always underestimate just how horrible they were to me in school," Severus said critically. "And even worse was the treatment after Lily and James were married. They all seemed to think I'd done something to her to chase her to Potter."

"They were right, in a way," Dumbledore said.

There was a short pause, and Severus said, "I think it's time to bring this conversation to an end."

"Perhaps if I talked to him," Dumbledore offered.

"If you do," Severus said, narrowing his eyes menacingly. "I will _never_ forgive you. You are already walking a fine line with me, and if you interfere with this issue any further, I will never trust you again."

There was another short pause in which Dumbledore seemed to be deciding how to respond to this.

"Understood," Dumbledore finally said, standing up to leave. "But Severus, for all of our sakes, don't shut him out. His emotional stability is key in winning this war."

"I won't befriend the boy as part of a ploy to win against the Dark Lord," Severus said, shaking his head. "If I do, it will be because I feel I should. You may use people as pawns to your game, but as I know what that feels like, I won't."

"Goodnight, Severus," Dumbledore said after a moment.

"Goodnight," Severus said with a curt nod, before watching Dumbledore disappear out the door.

Author's notes

K, guys, hope that was good enough for you all! I know some of you would have liked to see him go ballistic, but I really don't think that would be too in-character. I notice in the books that Harry is the only person who really causes him to rage maniacally, so… I felt this type of anger would be more suited to his personality. He tends to restrict most of his emotions, I've noticed, when he's in front of Dumbledore and McGonagall… (one might wonder if this is because they were his teachers at school and he recognizes their authority, and also they run the place. Oh, he is a sly one, knows just what he can get away with…)

I have decided not to bring Lily back; I had a realization as I was reading your reviews that the ones I felt best about where the ones that disliked the idea- like I felt they were the most honest and was relieved at the honesty. Obviously, as much as I would love for it to happen, it is an idea that I know (somewhere in the back of my mind) that would kill the fic, at least if I brought her completely back (this does not eliminate the chance of her being in the ending, and actually it's quite complicated, but read on). A reviewer voiced my exact thought to me: Life is pain, you have to deal with it. Somehow, I think it would defeat the purpose of the story to try to right everything that was wrong; I think a main theme of Harry Potter is meant to say that you have to overcome difficulties and that they make you stronger, rather than hope things get easier and it'll all turn out fine. Come to think of it, Slytherins are probably used as a foil in this way, to say that just because you can do something easily or it looks good from the outside, doesn't mean it will bring the best end. OH! And maybe Snape is being used to show how mistakes can be corrected, and you don't have to just accept them- although taking the right path first is best, because though you may think you can just start again, you'll end up worse for the wear… 

I would love more opinions on the whole Lily thing, though, because I'm still somewhere in the middle of deciding.

Thank you so much to **Rlmess **and **Cithara, **who are now helping me as Betas (and truly wonderful ones, at that! J ).

Thank you so much to **Eagle-Eyes **who was reviewer 150!

Review responses are at my homepage (or will be soon. I've been really busy the past few days, but I thought I'd get this chapter out.)

Thanks so much for reading, and I love you all platonically!


	15. Ultimatum

Chapter 15

Ultimatum

Author's notes at bottom

Severus slowly made his way towards his bed, leaning on any stable object he could for support. His body was very tired; he had endured a lot that day. Thankfully, he'd spent much of his time during the past twenty years developing immunity and strengthening potions, and his body was able to endure much more than the average person's. However, torture such as he'd received still took its toll. His head was pounding, his wounds throbbing. To make matters worse, he was weighted with a heavy decision: whether or not he would tell Harry.

He couldn't even think clearly enough to make that decision.

Severus was used to hiding his emotion and blocking out any upsetting thoughts that should come his way. Even he, however, was susceptible to the emotion caused by what he'd learned this day. There were too many things on his mind to block them all out, and they were all relevant to one another, which made them all the more difficult to deal with.

The hardest to deal with was the fact that, once again, the dark mark had turned out to be the culprit of a major source of misery in his life. He had loved Lily, more than anyone had ever known… possibly even more than she ever knew. But over the years, he had come to hate her _so_ much; oh, he still loved the woman he'd married, but he hated the woman that he divorced. Not once had he regretted throwing her from his home. Sometimes he even wished he'd done more, sent her back to Potter in a much worse state than he did. He wanted to make her to pay for what she did to him, and if she were still alive, he would have. Now he knew he should feel differently, but he didn't know if he could let go of all those feelings. He had thought she hated him, he had even thought, on rare occasions, perhaps she had planned it all along. Had she been capable of such malice and vice, he would have believed it true… because it did hurt, it had _so_ hurt.

But she hadn't hated him. She had simply done what she had always done; the right thing. She did it to protect her child, and would have gone back to him had he not reacted to her so violently…

Severus understood this now. He'd spent years brooding over these past events, and now he was haunted by the life he could have had. He could have been happy, he never would have had to turn spy. He wouldn't be spending his life miserable… Lily might even still be alive. Severus had learned of the prophecy this year; Dumbledore had told him to impress the importance of protecting the prophecy and Harry. Voldemort had no idea that Severus had thrice defied him, so he never would have come after Harry. He would have gone after the Longbottoms, and Neville would have been marked with the scar that sat upon _his son's _head today.

Severus would have been able to watch his son grow up, keep him safe, teach him what he needed to know. Furthermore, the boy wouldn't have turned out the way he was. Instead of turning into a defiant, arrogant brat who thought he deserved the world's attention, he might have turned out much differently. The two might not hate each other as they did now…

Had the circumstances been different, Severus would have been very anxious to meet this boy now being labeled his son. He would have thought about all the things he wanted to say, how he would apologize for everything that had happened. He liked the idea of his and Lily's child, of having him around, having _someone _around. What he was not wild about was having that _someone _be Harry Potter. The biological relationship between the two changed nothing, Potter was Potter, and that would not change. He could not break him of his cockiness, (he doubted anyone could,) and he could not pretend the past five years hadn't happened.

Severus wanted to know his son… he just wasn't sure how he felt about Harry Potter. Somehow, he couldn't connect the two.

xxx

Harry Potter abruptly jerked out of his deep sleep and sat up in alarm, clutching his rapidly beating heart and sweating profusely. He stared around into the dark hospital wing, and as he realized where he was, his breathing slowed.

Harry had been in the hospital wing for three days now, and he didn't know if the jumpy feeling of the ward was inducing all these dreams, but he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

Once again, Harry had been having a dream that centered around his Potions Master, Professor Snape. He couldn't understand why the man suddenly occupied the thoughts running through his head every night while he was asleep. Even more confusing was the fact that his mother was also in many of them. Was this another ploy of Voldemort, trying to drive him to insanity? Perhaps Snape was doing it on purpose, keeping him from feeling too comfortable around him; the man was an extremely gifted legilimens.

Harry had a good idea, however, that these dreams weren't intended to happen by anyone. They had been occurring only since the traumatic day he'd experienced a few nights ago, the day in which his Professor had unintentionally saved him through a connection giving grip. Every part of Harry's intuition told him that the thoughts flashing through his head whenever his eyes fell closed were the result of the connection they'd shared, and perhaps withdrawal from it…

The day he'd left for his doomed Death Eater's meeting was the last day Snape had spoken with Harry. He hadn't come to the hospital wing, and from what Harry gathered from the conversations that took place while he was supposed to be asleep, he had been avoiding Dumbledore as well. Of course, the comments he'd overheard had been very vague; most of them were simple questions regarding Snape's condition or whereabouts, and Dumbledore's responses of, "He won't see me."

Harry was sure it was due only to delirium that he had perceived Snape as being somewhat agreeable the last time they'd spoken, and the same fact was to be attributed to his previous worry for the irate professor. His mind had been in a fog the moment he'd tried so with so much effort to keep Snape there, fearful for his well-being, and Harry refused to think for a second that it was out of genuine care that he'd done so. It was clear that in the confusion of the then-recent events, Harry had seen Snape as someone who'd just saved his life out of compassion, not obligation. Now, however, it was plain, and Harry was quite embarrassed he hadn't seen it before; Snape had saved him simply out of duty.

So it was with these feelings that Harry, very disgruntled, made his way down to Snape's office that afternoon. When he'd awoken early in the morning, Madame Pomfrey had informed him of his release and handed him a small note from the Headmaster. The neat, loopy writing scrawled across the tiny slip of parchment formed the worst words Harry could have feared to occur in the same sentence: "Meet Professor Snape in his office at one' o clock in the afternoon for occlumency."

xxx

Harry arrived in the cool, torch lit dungeons five minutes ahead of schedule. It always depressed him to be down there, for it usually meant three very bad things; Slytherins, Potions, and Snape. Today, it meant only the latter; still Harry didn't exactly consider himself lucky. This was typical of Harry's life; on one of the worst days possible, in the worst circumstances, with the worst thoughts running through his head, Harry was to be locked in an office with Snape for two hours, having his mind repeatedly and relentlessly attacked and having no clue how to stop it. The sun was shining; the birds were chirping. Butterflies fluttered through the fields of flowers surrounding the great stone castle, (Well maybe not, but this was the way Harry had formed the picture in his mind), and he was sentenced to the dark dungeons of Hogwarts with his equally dark professor.

When he reached the door to Snape's office, he saw that it was already open. He tentatively stepped inside and looked around, but Snape was nowhere to be seen. Had he forgotten about this afternoon's lesson? Or had he been called away on other business, such as a Death Eater's meeting?

Harry cautiously advanced into the room, still looking around for his professor. His absence was a curious one; it was unlike him to be late, but if he had left for good, he certainly wouldn't have left his door opened and unguarded. Harry surveyed the top of his desk and examined the surrounding shelves, looking for some sign of Snape's whereabouts. The only thing his inspection told him, however, was that the man wasn't fond of dusting. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Potter!" The door hit the wall with a resounding _BOOM _as it was thrown further open.

Harry jumped so badly that he was surprised to find himself still inside his skin afterwards. He spun around, eyes wide.

"What are you doing?" Severus demanded accusingly, looking him over.

"Nothing, sir," Harry said. He didn't really care to explain that he was trying to find out where Snape had gone by the state of his shelves.

"No one can ever do 'nothing', Potter," Severus said, remaining where he was and folding his arms over his chest. "Even if all you're doing is staring at the wall, you're still doing something."

Harry stared at him in a moment of indecision, weighing the pros and cons of being respectful or retorting smartly, as his eventual petulance seemed inevitable.

"Professor Dumbledore asked me to meet you here for Occlumency," Harry decidedly responded, repressing his inclination to irascibility.

Something flashed inscrutably behind Snape's eyes for a split second, but was gone before Harry could ponder what it was.

"Did he?" Severus responded dispassionately. "Well, disappointed though I know you will be, Potter, I have much more important things to attend to, and as these lessons are hardly more than a waste of time, there's no point in my ignorance of more heavily weighted tasks-"

"But Professor Dumbledore—"

"I hardly care," Severus said, voice just as cold as before. "It is, after all, my office, not Dumbledore's, therefore the decision of whether or not you will remain in it is strictly for me to decide. Now, unless you'd _like _to remain in it every night for the rest of the holiday serving detentions, I suggest you leave."

"You can't give me a detention," Harry responded angrily. "I haven't even done anything!"

"Correction," Severus said softly, a smirk curling around his thin lips. "It hasn't been _discovered _that you've done anything, but if you'd like that to change…"

Harry considered arguing further, but then he had a revelation. Why was he standing here, arguing with Snape about Occlumency lessons? He was free! He could leave, and he wouldn't get in trouble for it. The only way anyone would be upset would be if Dumbledore were to find out, and Harry sure wasn't going to run to the headmaster to tattletale on the mean professor like some first year would do.

"Right," Harry said after a moment. "I'll leave you to your _important _work."

For a moment, Snape looked as though he were going to reprimand Harry for his tone, but seemingly had the same idea as Harry; he was getting what he wanted, so why be bothered? He shot Harry a dangerous glare, but stepped aside to allow him access to the open doorway. Without another word, Harry left, ready to spend the rest of his day completely Snape-free.

Harry wandered down the corridors, heading towards the Gryffindor tower. He'd spent very little time there since he'd arrived, and since it would be swarming with noisy students in a matter of weeks, Harry was looking forward to enjoying what quiet time it had to offer now, before he no longer could.

It was strange to think that there had been a time when it had been difficult finding the way to the common room. Harry could remember being a first year, struggling to remember the locations of all his different classes and getting lost on his journeys to the dormitories, being sure that the suits of armor rearranged themselves just to confuse him. Now, Harry had walked these halls so many times, he could easily find his way back, even if he was making no conscious effort to do so. It was as though his feet just knew where to carry him- and he liked that. Every year, the castle began to feel more and more like home to him, and every year, he became more and more afraid of losing it…

At times like this, when the castle seemed so safe and so peaceful, it was difficult to grip the fact that a war was raging outside of it. Even more difficult to grip was the fact that Harry had a major part in it; he could ultimately turn out to be the deciding factor of which side came out victorious. His friends complained about their homework, parents, and professors, but that was nothing compared to the stress Harry was facing. For the first time in a long while, the realization struck that life was no longer a simple matter of what to do and how to do it; life was now a privilege that he had to struggle to keep. An odd feeling it was, to know that every day could be his last.

Harry came to turn a corner; he was drawing nearer to the Gryffindor Common room. His mind was set on the new books he'd bought in Diagon Alley, especially the one for Magic on the Offense. Little did he know, however, that his plans were about to be foiled.

"Harry?" His name was called out by a gentle voice. It was Dumbledore; he was standing at the end of the hallway, frowning.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Professor Snape?" Dumbledore asked, slowly and deliberately approaching.

Wonderful. And he had been so happy to be off to Gryffindor tower, with all the free time in the world. It was though Dumbledore had been waiting for him; why did he have to know everything?

"Er-," Harry said, searching his mind for an excuse, and groaning inwardly at his lack of inspiration.

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, disappointment lurking in his expression and concern evident in his eyes. "Harry," he started, closing the gap between them, "Do you remember the conversation we had at number 12?"

"Yes," Harry replied, looking at his feet. What could he do now? Dumbledore was going to question him, and unless he told him about what happened with Snape, it was going to seem as though he'd abandoned his promise to try harder in Occlumency. But if he did relinquish the story, Snape was going to be furious with him, and Snape was never fun to be around when he was in a bad mood.

"Why aren't you where I asked you to be?" Dumbledore asked, surveying him with the same disenchanted expression on his aged face.

"Well, I did go," Harry said, trying to sound casual about it. "But Professor Snape said he had other work to attend to, and I didn't want to keep him, so I thought I could just use this time to work on the rest of my essays."

Harry's flippant attitude didn't have the effect he'd hoped for; Dumbledore wasn't fooled.

"He did?" Dumbledore asked disbelievingly. "He told you to leave?"

"Yeah," Harry said dismissively, "But it's alright, I really have to do that homework—"

"No, it's not alright," Dumbledore said abruptly. He looked off to the side, quiet for a moment. He looked completely incensed, and it seemed as though he was deciding exactly what to do. After he seemed to have made up his mind, he turned to Harry again. "I want you to come with me."

Harry looked as though he was going to object, but he never got the chance to. Dumbledore turned and headed towards the dungeons, and Harry had no other choice except to follow.

He dragged his feet at a short distance behind the Headmaster, dreading Snape's reaction to when they arrived. What would he say? What would he do? Obviously, he was in no position to refuse to give Harry the lessons, but Harry was sure that he would make him pay for bringing Dumbledore into it.

Before long, Dumbledore was standing in front of Snape's office door, raptly knocking on it.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, still knocking. "I demand that you open this door at once. I know you're in there, and if I have to force the door open-"

There was a loud clang from the inside, followed by a pained curse. They could hear someone moving around within the room, and Dumbledore stopped knocking and stood back, waiting for Snape to come to the door.

There was a short silence; Harry waited with his breath held for whatever was to come. After a moment, the door opened, and Snape was standing there, a dark glower on his sallow face.

"Is there some sort of life-threatening problem, headmaster?" Severus said softly, keeping his tone under control, but doing nothing to withhold his contemptuous sneer. "Or have you finally come up with another lie to-," He stopped speaking abruptly, catching sight of Harry, and looked back to Dumbledore in question, eyes narrowed.

"I just discovered young Harry roaming the halls," Dumbledore said in an even tone, surveying Severus with abated scrutiny. "Which surprised me, since I specifically requested that he be here, learning Occlumency. Perhaps you'd like to explain to me why he is not?"

Harry shrunk back slightly as Snape turned his glare towards him, his eyes spitting all the insults and accusations his lips could not. After a short moment, he looked away, erasing the enraged look from his face.

"You requested this?" Severus asked, in a voice expressing not but innocence.

"_Yes_, Severus, I did," Dumbledore said, looking at him warningly as if to say _'don't even try playing innocent'._ And in fact, this was exactly what Dumbledore was thinking. He had come to know Severus very well over the years, and could tell from the look of his black, nearly emotionless eyes when he had slid on his mask of suppression. It hurt to see it now; Severus normally reserved this for those he could not trust at all. It was hard for Dumbledore to think that he had now been put into that category.

"Really?" Severus said silkily, raising his eyebrows. "I received no notice."

Dumbledore's face had not changed, but his azure eyes were blazing with such austerity as Severus had not seen in years. He held Snape in a piercing stare, furious at the lack of respect with which the man was facing him. Suddenly, he pushed past Snape and went straight into his office, heading towards the desk.

"What are you doing?" Severus questioned quickly, trying to conceal his apprehension, and following the headmaster inside.

Dumbledore didn't respond. He sifted through the papers on top of Snape's desk, and after a moment, pointedly held up a small piece of parchment between his thumb and his index finger. Severus looked from the parchment to Dumbledore, unsure how to react. It was the note he'd received this morning; he'd hoped that the old man wouldn't think to check for it.

"Don't lie to me, Severus," Dumbledore said deeply, power radiating from his voice. "You can hate me all you like, and you can hold everything I've done against me. But you will respect me, you will follow my orders, and you will not sit there and lie to my face."

Defiance flashed in Snape's eyes; everything about him looked dark and menacing, but he remained silent.

"Harry," Dumbledore called out, turning towards the hallway, where Harry still was. "Come in here, and close the door behind you."

Snape's eyes flew to Dumbledore, wide with panic. "Don't you dare!" He hissed in a voice barely above a whisper, shaking his head with as little motion possible.

Harry did as he was told, but with a sickened feeling growing inside. Both men looked absolutely enraged, and were the last two men's fury he wanted to be caught in the middle of, let alone the source of.

He took a seat in front of Snape's desk, trying to avoid both Professors' eyes. Dumbledore was still standing behind Snape's desk, and Snape was still positioned on the floor in front of it, standing closely behind Harry.

"I asked you to begin Occlumency lessons today, Severus," Dumbledore began, still holding the parchment. "If there was a conflict, you should have informed me of it, rather than waiting until Harry arrived and then turning him away. He should not be faced with the dilemma of which adult to listen to, and you should not be putting him in that situation. I should be able to feel confident that you will _help _him, not make things more difficult. Am I going to have to supervise every lesson between the two of you in order to make that happen?"

"I should think it would be quite clear," Severus replied smoothly, "That if I haven't spoken to you, you're at no liberty to decide when these lessons will take place. A simple note being sent to my office does not bind me to the duty of carrying them out, and you should be sharp enough to realize that unless I respond, I am not obligated to, and therefore won't, make time for them."

"They should be a priority, you don't make time for priorities, you make time for everything else," Dumbledore said, voice growing more and more threatening.

"The order is my priority, but this boy is not!" Severus said, taking a few steps forward.

Harry would have been offended if it were not for the fact that this was Snape talking.

"That's not what you said the other night," Dumbledore countered, aiming a pointed glare at him.

There was silence. Harry longed to turn in his chair to see the look on Snape's face, but he dared not to. What were they talking about? Had they been discussing him the other night, after Snape had come back from the meeting? And if so, what was said?

"I think this is a conversation we should be having in private," Severus said in a voice clearly forced under control. "Potter really has no need to be a part of it."

"I disagree—"

"That's too bad," Severus said, moving towards the door. He jerked it open. "Potter leaves, or I do."

End Chapter

Thank you so much to my betas **Cithara **and **Rlmess**, they truly are wonderful. 

**On the length of this story: **This story is shaping up to be very long. As of right now, I have sixth year ending at about chapter 38, and that's only if I don't stray from the outline, which I most likely will. I would like to continue through seventh year and end it shortly after graduation. What do you guys think?

Review responses are at my homepage 

Thanks for reading, I love you all platonically!


	16. Subtle Threats

Chapter 16

Subtle Threats

Author's notes at bottom

Before Dumbledore could respond, Harry rose from his chair; he had had enough. He didn't want Dumbledore trying to persuade them to make peace, and he was sick of Snape talking so brusquely about him as if he weren't there. What right did either of them have, sitting around and discussing him, and then dragging him into whatever dispute carried over from that? Dumbledore was right; he shouldn't be faced with the decision of which adult to listen to. But did the headmaster realize how hypocritical it was to then turn around and involve him in an argument that he should have no part in, forcing him to choose sides?

"That's fine," Harry said irritably, heading out the door. "I don't want to be here anyways. I'll leave you two," he paused at the door, not turning around, and allowed his voice to carry the irony of the rest of his statement, "to have another conversation _about, but not involving_, me."

Snape raised his eyebrows, taken aback by how true the words the boy spoke were. Had he not been so furious with the headmaster, he probably would have registered them in a much more offended way; now, he felt almost pleased at Dumbledore's unhappy expression.

"Severus, you will not undermine my authority," Dumbledore said, stepping towards the door. Harry, however, had already set off down the hall, and Severus slammed the door shut before Dumbledore could follow him.

"Ah," Severus said disdainfully, "but I believe in this case, that authority belongs to me, now doesn't it? He is, after all, my son."

"Until you acknowledge that," Dumbledore said stonily, his face maintaining its placid look of calm, but an irrepressible look of fury flying into his eyes, "you have no claim to any authority above mine. Step aside."

"No," Severus said, positioning himself further in front of the door. He knew this was an unwise choice, he knew that Dumbledore could easily remove him from his path, but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of the man interfering with matters of his life that should be left alone; he was sick of having decisions made for him and being manipulated into doing whatever Dumbledore wished. "I will not be forced into the role of the hardhearted father! Why is it that you insist on your continuation of meddling with affairs which don't concern you?"

"As the only adult here who has any concern for the boy," Dumbledore said, the heat rising with every word as he slowly moved towards the younger man, "as the only adult who takes the role of guardian to him, the way he is treated and his well-being _is_ an affair that concerns me. Maybe it should be your choice whether or not he's told, but unless I can trust that you will handle this decision with responsibility, it is my job to interfere. If I cannot be guaranteed that while he remains unknowing you will treat him no worse than you had prior to this discovery—"

"Fine," Severus said, cutting him off. "Then I'll treat him as I always have. But if you still wish to pride yourself on your _extensive wisdom_, say nothing to him. I, unlike the rest of the Wizarding world, will have no pity for him, and if you think your interference will prompt me to cultivate any sort of relationship, you are sadly mistaken."

"I take it, then, that you _really_ plan not to tell him," Dumbledore said, his voice sounding repressed, as though he were attempting with acute difficulty to conceal his frustration. "Will you really be so ignorant as to think he'll never find out? Is your keeping this from him any different from the way I kept it from you? You admonished me saying, 'it wasn't your choice to make, I had a right to know, he had a right to know' and then you turn around and still deny him that right? You'll storm around this castle, fuming about the arrogance of your late schoolmates of almost twenty years, and yet you are so confident in your—"

"I'm confident?" Severus snarled, a furious scowl twisting his face. "Look at you! You still think you acted for the best- _that you are-_ acting for the best! You can't even bring yourself to recognize the fact that just because you are the oldest person in every room, it doesn't make you the wisest! Clearly, you, of all people, are in no position to rebuke me for holding on to things, as you can't even let go of the reality that you were wrong. Yes, Dumbledore, that's right. _You were wrong_. Does it pain you to hear that? Because I know you don't hear it very often—"

"Silence!" Dumbledore commanded, his hand positioned threateningly near his robe pockets, which Severus knew contained his wand. "We are not here to talk about my faults. We are here to talk about Harry. Have you thought nothing of the things I said to you? Severus, he needs someone there, and you obviously do too—"

"Obviously?" Severus exclaimed. "What are you—?"

"You've never been the same since Lily," Dumbledore said, sympathy now annoyingly flitting into his calm and powerful tones. "I would have thought this might shed some light on your dark world, I thought you might be pleased to know that she never betrayed you, and that there was someone there for you. Answer me honestly. Do you still view her the same way? Have your thoughts not changed?"

"They have," Severus admitted grudgingly, glaring at the Headmaster.

"Then why not tell the boy? Perhaps it will be difficult, but I cannot understand why anyone would _choose _to live life alone- I know he wouldn't."

"Oh, come now, Dumbledore," Severus said contemptuously. "I think we both know that would be an unwise choice on my part. The boy hates me, and likewise. He prides himself on being the star Gryffindor, son of James Potter. What would he say if he found out he had me as a father instead?"

Severus said this as though he were disgusted with both the boy and his sorry mentality, but Dumbledore could still hear some regret hidden behind the malice in his tone. It seemed as though Severus didn't realize his distress over each point until he himself had voiced it.

"No," Severus went on spitefully, "I think we both know it is better that he suffer under the delusion that he's the savior to the world, born to perfect parents. At least I won't need to have anything to do with him. Why make either one of us suffer needlessly?"

Dumbledore considered him for a moment, his fury at the man already ebbing away. "Severus, you've been suffering for so long, I don't doubt you're afraid to live a life without it- I don't wonder you can't imagine living without the pain," He paused. "But I think you underestimate him," He said quietly.

"And I think," Severus said, crossing his arms and intensifying his glare, "That you make too many assumptions." He hated when Dumbledore began analyzing him, as though he needed someone else to remind him of his emotions, just in order to understand himself.

Dumbledore stood silent for a moment, watching him. Severus couldn't really tell what he was thinking, but he wished the man would say something. The distant, anguished look in his eyes was disconcerting; it brought to life the reality of the damage that had been done to their relationship. Dumbledore was gazing at him with the look of a father who had lost a son and knew he couldn't repair what had been so deeply wounded, and Severus quelled under his gaze as the son who could not return, but could not retaliate.

"You really have no intention of building any kind of relationship with him, even if I tell him?" Dumbledore finally asked in extreme despondence.

"None," Severus said firmly. Part of him wondered why they kept coming back to this point; did the headmaster think if he asked the question enough times, the answer would eventually change?

"Then I will find someone who will," Dumbledore said a moment later, his tone set in an air of finality.

"What does _that_ mean?" Severus inquired softly, eyebrow raised in suspicion. What was Dumbledore getting at?

"Remus Lupin will have returned from his order duty last night, and it will be another few weeks before he must transform again," Dumbledore said, maintaining an even tone and looking casually off to the side. He knew it would be too much for the Potions Master to bear, having a former marauder once again fill his rightful position as father figure and confidant to Harry. Even if it didn't spark some paternal flame, it would at least set the groundwork for such. Jealousy and resentment were two sentiments Severus, even as disciplined as he was, could not resist reacting to, and Dumbledore knew this. "I'll send Harry to stay with him for a week, and though Moody already agreed to fill this year's Defense against the Dark Arts position, perhaps Lupin could fill in instead."

As much as Severus disliked having Mad-Eye Moody hovering around the castle, the idea of having Lupin there was far worse. He couldn't decide quite how to react; should he submit to Dumbledore's requests, should he swallow his pride and ask him not to hire Lupin, or should he feign indifference to the notion, in hopes that the headmaster had no real intentions of carrying through with this subtle threat?

No, as quickly as the notion of acceptance came, it left. Severus couldn't stand even the thought of the man, as appallingly tolerant and friendly as he was, drifting about the castle, and causing Severus more aggravation than even an entire class of first years at the start of term with his jovial and disgustingly imperturbable attitude.

"Are you doing this as some part of your elaborate scheme of forcing me into 'bonding' with our oh-so-troubled boy wonder, hmm, Dumbledore?" Severus scoffed derisively, "again, trying to manipulate me into—"

"I'm doing this for Harry," Dumbledore said, with such convincingness that it startled Severus, who dropped his contemptuous expression of scorn, slowly replacing it with a look of resentfulness.

Severus looked him over very carefully, and realized just how serious the man was. If he didn't say something- if he didn't at least partially comply, he was going to be doomed to another year of misery. Damn the man, he'd known exactly how to get to Severus. But then, if Dumbledore was going to insist on being as cunning as necessary to get what he wanted, then Severus could just as easily match him. He was, after all, a Slytherin.

"Fine," Severus said compliantly, dropping his arms to his sides in assent. "I make no promises, but if you'll," He paused and raised his eyes to the ceiling, "_refrain from hiring that insufferable werewolf,_" he unclenched his teeth, "then, I will at least consider speaking with the boy about our- situation."

Perfect. Dumbledore could hardly help feeling pleased with himself, and it took all the self-control in the world for him to withhold a heaving sigh of relief at these words. "Do you mean that Severus?" he asked seriously, "Will you really consider it?"

"But I make no promises," Severus said, raising his eyebrows as if to reinforce this statement.

"As long as you will at least contemplate it," Dumbledore said, slightly begrudged by Severus' unwillingness to concede, "That is fine."

There was a short pause, and then Dumbledore started slowly, "You know how important these lessons are for him."

"Yes, I do," Severus said, turning and heading towards his shelves, desperate to occupy himself with something other than Dumbledore's words. "I am, after all, the one who brings you the information that would call attention to this."

"So will you _please_ make some time for a lesson today?" Dumbledore implored him wearily, hoping there wasn't another argument coming.

"Fine, fine," Severus snapped, jerking his head irritably but still maintaining his attention on the items of his shelves. "Send him down."

Dumbledore nodded graciously. "Thank you, Severus."

Severus stared at the floor until Dumbledore had left, and after a moment, he made his way over to his desk and sat down. He allowed his head to sink into his hands; the emotional stress of these past few days had been taxing, and to add to that stress, there was now much pressure on him to speak with Harry about this situation.

He hadn't realized until the moment the words had left his mouth that his promise to Dumbledore now bound him to the contemplation of his decision. He hadn't intended there to be any truth to what he'd told Dumbledore, but now Severus found that with the weight of this issue being placed on him, he couldn't avoid thinking about it. He'd been so upset when Dumbledore had told him that he'd killed his own child, that he had no one because of his violent temper. After he'd learned the truth, he'd even entertained the thought of playing father to Harry, but then he'd realized; even if he could allow himself to open up that part of him which he'd hidden for so many years, even if he could somehow move past his previous conceptions about the boy, there was no guaranteeing Harry would. Considering the way Severus had treated him for so long, it was nearly impossible that the boy would be able to move past every loathsome feeling he'd developed over the years.

Now, Severus found that he was in fact mulling over the very subject he'd misleadingly promised he would. But still, his standpoint remained the same; it seemed easiest to forget about the notion. There could never be anything between the two of them other than a hateful teacher to student relationship; there were too many things standing in the way. Severus could easily ignore the fact that Harry was his son, even if he couldn't forget it, and so for both their sakes, he would. After all, for years, he'd hidden the fact that he still desperately longed to have his wife back; he'd never admitted that to anyone, even himself.

end chapter 16

Well, I was saving this chapter till next week, but you guys convinced me not to. A lot of you specifically requested that I post it by today, so I really didn't have the heart to postpone it… Especially since this is the chapter most of you have been waiting for. I just hope you have time to read with all the HBP madness going on. Hope you enjoyed it!

P.S. I would like to note at this time that I have had my story planned and outlined for months, so any similarities it could possibly bear to HBP are strictly coincidental. That probably won't happen, but I just wanted to claim that now- you never know!

Please don't post any type of spoilers in your reviews; I have the book reserved and will get it at midnight, but I am waiting a week until my best friend gets back from out of town so that we can read it together. She turned down tickets to the New York Premiere of GoF because we are planning to see the midnight show, so I can't help but be loyal to her  sigh. this is going to be murder.

I will notify you when I have read it, so that if you have anything to say to me about it, you may.

Thank you to **BriMcPoopers **who was reviewer 200!

Thank you to **Rlmess **and **Cithara **who beta my chapters!

Review responses will be at my homepage in a few days 

I love you all platonically!


	17. The Tendencies of a Father

Chapter 17

The Tendencies of a Father

xxx

Harry walked quickly, trying to put as much distance between himself and Snape's office as possible. He wasn't sure if he'd just made the right choice, but he was sure that he couldn't have stood another second in the middle of that intense argument.

Oddly enough, despite Snape's unremitting malevolence towards him, it was Dumbledore whom Harry was most upset with. Agreeably, Snape shouldn't have faced him with the debate of which adult to listen to, but at least he hadn't forced him into such an unnerving situation. Dumbledore had given him the more difficult choice of which adult to side with. Harry had been placed in the middle of a dispute, uninvited and undecided on his partiality. Dumbledore had made it seem as though Harry was siding with him, but in reality, he hadn't been happy with either one of the men. Everything Dumbledore had said to Snape was fully called for, but he didn't have to make it a public affair involving all three of them. The last thing he wanted to deal with was Snape and his repressed rage built up from feeling as though Harry and the headmaster had teamed up against him.

It would have been better if he were left alone, but Harry had hardly put two floors between himself and Snape's office when Dumbledore turned up again, looking worn out, but nevertheless, satisfied. As soon as Harry saw him, he froze, put off at the impenitent, cheery look on the old man's face.

"I take it I'm to go back, then?" said Harry flatly as Dumbledore approached, trying hard to keep the irritation out of his tone.

Dumbledore closed his mouth, as he had opened it to speak, and then smiled gently. "Perhaps you shouldn't have given up Divination," he said, eyes twinkling, "is that the inner eye I sense in you?"

If Harry hadn't been annoyed before, he was now. "No," he said in the same flat tone, but with more force behind his voice than he'd had previously, "I don't think that's quite what you're sensing."

Dumbledore's smile faded, and he frowned. "Harry, if I did something to offend you, you might tell me what it is I've done, rather than take exception to me whilst I'm left in the dark."

"You mean you don't know?" Harry asked, now barely managing to keep his volume under control. "Do you think what you just did was any better than Snape? I would have thought you, of all people, would understand my reasons for not wanting to go back there- because I know you didn't buy that bit about needing to do my homework- and still you drag me down to his office and tell him off for what he did _in front of me_ so he'll- what- hate me more?"

"Professor Snape doesn't hate you, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Well, he's got a funny way of showing it," Harry said, adjusting his bag, which was starting to feel extremely heavy.

"Look, Harry," said Dumbledore, placing a hand upon his right shoulder, "I know you two haven't fared well in the past, but I think this year—"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "I don't want to listen to you tell me how things could get better, how we just have to set our differences aside. Right now, I don't want to listen to anything, and I'm not going to those lessons, not right now. – Sorry," He added as he turned and headed towards the library, leaving Dumbledore standing bewildered in the middle of the hallway.

No student had ever behaved this way towards Dumbledore, and at this moment, he was at a loss for what to do. He considered going after Harry, but upon consideration, realized this was not the best course of action. Instead, he turned and headed in the direction of the Potions master's office.

Upon entering the already open door, he found Severus seated at his desk, grading the essays that his N.E.W.T students had been sending over the summer. The man looked up at him, a tired and irritable look on his face.

"Yes, headmaster?" He inquired in a low, monotonous voice, which suggested he was very tired of meeting this way.

"You'll be interested to know that you won't be needing to carry through with an occlumency lesson today," Dumbledore started.

"And why is this?" said Severus, begrudged by the instability of his day's schedule.

"In short," Dumbledore said with a resigned sigh, "Harry made it quite plain to me that he refuses." He was considering explaining further, but thought better of it at the look on Severus' face. It was a disbelieving and dismayed expression, and Dumbledore was curious what words were to follow.

"He refused?" Severus asked in mild astonishment, raising an eyebrow. "What- and you accepted that?"

"As it's me he's upset with," Dumbledore said despondently, "For unrightfully forcing him into a situation he had no desire to be in, I felt it would be best if I left it alone. He won't listen to me right now, and if I am to have him respect me, I believe I'll have to respect the fact that he needs my lack of interference."

"A novel idea," Severus said caustically, leaning forward in his chair. "But he can't be permitted to ignore what he is asked of by those in power over him."

"That is true," Dumbledore said, inclining his head in agreement, and partially to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He was careful to conceal his amusement as he looked back up.

Severus waited for a further response, and when he received none, he pressed, "The boy needs to be dealt with, do you not agree?"

"Maybe," Dumbledore said, "but not by me. As I've said, he's too angry with me, and he'll only hear me with defiance in his mind."

"Children will always be defiant; it is their inherent nature," Severus said cynically, raising an eyebrow. "But if you allow him to behave now with such flagrant disregard for authority, it only gives him incentive to do so in the future."

Severus could not, for the life of him, decipher the reason for the now unavoidable twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as the man looked up at him.

"Why Severus," Dumbledore said in amused disbelief, "I do believe you're beginning to sound like a father."

The disbelieving look upon Severus' face vanished as he realized what the Headmaster was getting at, and as he opened his mouth to speak, Dumbledore gave him a small smile and said, "Good day, Severus."

xxx

Harry's recklessly tossed his bag into the chair next to him as he plopped himself in front of an empty table. The library was completely deserted except for him, and if Harry hadn't been in such an irritable mood, he probably would have found himself wishing he had someone else there; an unnerving silence hung in the air and every footstep, every sound, echoed creepily throughout the huge room. However, he now found himself glad for the lack of company.

Once he'd spread out his books across the table, (he did this in case someone happened upon him and asked questions about his purpose there), he set off down the commonly traveled rows of books, his eyes peeled for any literature which might help him solve the mysteries of his latest dreams. The last had been very different from the others. At first, the inexplicable visions had all entailed happy moments between his mother and Snape. Now, however, they'd begun to turn ugly. His thoughts inadvertently drifted back to his previous night's dream.

It had started with Snape at the small, dull Apothecary in Diagon Alley; Harry had been forced to watch in revulsion as his Potions Professor had selected several pickled animals for purchase, and had been forced to wonder what kinds of ingredients he would be required to use in the N.E.W.T. Potions class.

Harry had followed him as he'd left the shop in a rather hurried manner, and this was the first dream in which he'd seen Snape in just as dark and irascible a mood as he always was in at school. Harry had surveyed the scene in curiosity as he'd noticed his mother approaching, and had grown perplexed when Snape took no notice of her as she walked along, shooting him wary glances.

As Harry had lately grown accustomed to the happy dreams involving the two, he had first reasoned with his dream self that Snape was simply too absorbed in the pamphlet on Potions ingredients which he'd picked up at the shop to notice Lily heading straight his way. However, as Snape suddenly seemed to realize he was passing his next destination, he abruptly moved to turn into a small shop on the side of the street and blindly ran straight into Lily, sending her sprawling to the ground.

At first, Snape had looked down in surprise, and something resembling hopefulness had glistened momentarily in her eyes.

"Oh, I'm sor—" He had stopped mid-sentence, and Lily's anticipative expression had faded into a look of hurt as his lip had curled and he'd dropped the hand he had extended. His cold eyes had swept over her, his hard sneer becoming more pronounced. He clearly had only now realized whom he had knocked over.

Lily had hurriedly picked herself up off the ground, leveling him with an equally cold expression as she steadied on her feet. A very strange thing then happened; the words that Snape had been about to utter seemed to die on his lips, and he didn't say a word. Lily seemed to want to say something; her face held the same defiance, but her eyes were soft and pleading. Snape only looked unflinchingly at her for a moment before picking up the bags he'd sent flying to ground and roughly shoving them into her arms.

"You might want to exercise a little more caution," Snape had said icily. "Just because James Potter doesn't mind having your filthy mudblood hands all over him doesn't mean every other man holds you in the same regard."

Snape had then pushed past her; Lily's fierce expression had wavered for a moment, but she'd quickly recovered. Looking around at those onlookers who'd stopped, she'd quickly moved through the crowd, cheeks flushing violently and blinking her eyes furiously.

Harry had woken up that morning with an uneasy feeling resulting from his night's dream. He was becoming more and more curious about the nature of these visions, and had resolved to later check the library.

And so, for this reason, he was choosing to spend his free time researching all that he could about the dream world. These visions were becoming more and more troubling, and while Harry tried to push them to the back of his mind and tell himself that they were simply nightmares brought on from the stress of his past few weeks, he could not ignore the fact that most nightmares don't leave one feeling strangely happy upon awakening the next morning. He couldn't ignore the fact that almost every detailed dream he'd had in the past had been far from pointless, and whether or not these scenes running though his head were based on fact or fiction, he needed to know the reason behind it, and what he could do to stop them.

xxx

Dumbledore departed sooner than Severus could formulate any sort of response, and the normally imperturbable Potions Master found himself somewhat dumbstruck. How dare the Headmaster make such an insinuation? Severus had simply been shocked at the amount of calm Dumbledore had been maintaining after such appalling behavior and at the lenience he was demonstrating in allowing the boy to have his way. What kind of lesson was that? No, he hadn't spoken out of a fatherly desire to correct his son's conduct; he had spoken out of a reproving feeling of disagreement. It was no wonder that Harry was such an insolent child, with the exceptions that were made for him time and time again.

Severus was bothered by the lack of authority being exercised over Potter, after all, it seemed he was in need of strict discipline more than any of the other student at Hogwarts; none of them had intentionally sought out danger, attempting to take every matter into their own hands no matter the consequences. Dumbledore constantly seemed to confuse tolerance of wrong behavior with the giving of more responsibility. He seemed to think that by letting him slide, he was allowing him the space he needed to become more mature. What he didn't realize, in Severus' opinion, was that Harry needed to be treated as an adult as an adult would be treated in identical situations- and adults who had responsible obligations to fill could not simply refuse and be left to it.

The more Severus thought about it, the more firm he became in his former opinion; the boy needed to be dealt with. If no one ever reprimanded him for these childish actions, he would continue to take them… possibly until it was too late. Harry had most of the Wizarding world wrapped around his finger, it was true- but luckily, Severus thought, not everyone.

Had he been less absorbed in his dismay at Harry's appalling behavior, Severus might have realized just how like a parent he was thinking.

xxx

Later that night, Harry was camped out in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, feeling very much like Hermione as he read through the mass of books surrounding him. He'd seated himself on the center of the floor with his best findings sorted into piles; the ones he had not yet gone over were stacked in a shaky pillar next to him, the ones he'd found unhelpful were tossed onto the couch, and the ones which had supplied ample information were marked and spread across the ground, opened to the most useful pages. He was so absorbed in his research, in fact, that he didn't realize Snape had entered the room until the man was standing directly above him, his silhouette casting a dark shadow across the page Harry was so diligently reading.

As unlikely though it would seem, Harry hadn't been startled. He noticed the lack of light bearing illumination to the words his eyes were attempting to scan, and instantly recognized the black boots planted in front of him. He slowly lifted his eyes to Snape's unpleasant face.

Harry felt vaguely annoyed, yet apprehensive, at Snape's presence there. At the risk of giving away what he knew Snape would perceive as fear, he suppressed the urge to swallow the dryness that had formed in his mouth, and somehow, he couldn't decide what to say. He had an idea that any greeting which inquired the reason for his presence would come off as cocky or disrespectful, and as little as he cared for the man's opinion of him, he did care about how it affected his demeanor. If he was, as it appeared, there to chastise Harry, then it seemed inadvisable to further provoke his wrath.

After a moment's debate, Harry settled on mildly saying, "Good evening, Professor," and lifting himself to his feet.

Snape looked around at the mounds of books with a raised eyebrow. "Interesting reading?" he asked dryly, no hint of warmth in his expression or voice. Harry didn't notice his Professor's attention waning to the books in question as he shrugged unceremoniously and stepped sideways, over one of his piles, towards an empty chair. However, when he turned and began to sink into his chair, he froze with sudden anxiety as he saw that Snape was peering interestedly at the literature before him. If his ever-intrusive professor started asking questions on his reasons for reading these books, Harry would either have to tell him the truth or leave him to the conclusion he was inevitably bound to come up with on his own; that Harry was having visions again. Hoping to steer Snape's interest in another direction, Harry unfroze and slowly sank into his chair, watching him carefully as he spoke.

"So, umm, did you want to see me about something?" Harry hoped his voice had concealed his unease, but by the look of Snape's unchanged face, he got the distinct impression that the man knew exactly what this question was intended to do. The feeling of trepidation pitting itself in Harry's stomach grew more intense as his professor didn't answer, but began to more incisively inspect the material, moving aside with his foot book after book and peering down at the subject titles scrawled across the pages.

"Tell me, Potter," said Snape softly, not lifting his gaze from the manuscripts, which he was still probing with acute scrutiny. He bent and picked up a particularly hefty and ancient looking volume and continued, his dark eyes glittering with accusation, "What would a sixteen year old boy want with a chapter on _"Conceptual Dreams as Alternative or Authentic Reality"_?" He looked up from the page to Harry, eyebrows raised in mock speculation. "Curious way to spend a free night… unless," he paused and put his finger to his chin, maintaining his façade of conjecture, "_Unless_, that boy happened to be plagued by constant visions which sometimes were true and sometimes not, and he wanted to learn to distinguish between the two; then I'd say that makes a lot of sense. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry nodded glumly as he stared at the table in front of him. It was no use to object; Snape was just too quick at comprehension.

"Although I would say it would be much simpler to learn Occlumency, so that this boy would no longer have to bear false visions being planted in his head," Snape continued in the same horrible tone, moving slowly towards Harry, who maintained his gaze with the floor. "But as it is such an uncommon subject to find one adequate to teach, I suppose there would be sufficient reason to search for alternatives. _If only,_" Snape said in piteous tones which didn't match his expression, shaking his head with each syllable and his lip curling disdainfully as he brought himself to a halt directly in front of Harry, forcing him to look up. "…There was someone who could give such instruction."

Harry scowled up at him for a moment before dropping his gaze again. Then, recognizing an opening for a valid point, he said slowly and in a sheer imitation of his professor's tone, "Yes, if only there was someone who could give such instruction and would refrain from throwing this boy from the office, then just maybe it would work."

Their eyes met, and Harry wondered briefly if he'd crossed the line. For a moment, Snape's expression was completely inscrutable, before he decidedly went on.

"You know, Potter," Snape said dangerously, turning and walking around the table as he continued, "Try as I might, I cannot fathom what thoughts must run through your head that give you this tragic hero complex." Reaching the end of the table, he spun around and crossed his arms, staring contemptuously at Harry. "You are offered assistance; your every need is catered to. Anyone and everyone willingly gives up any spare time they have to give you, all so that your life will not be so difficult, so that you won't have to suffer. And still, you do all you can to make it so you must stumble blindly through life, as though you think accepting help will make you weak."

"Wasn't it you who told me that fools who wear their hearts on their sleeves and wallow in sad memories are weak?" Harry demanded forcefully as he stood up, feeling any retorts would seem little more than feeble coming from him while he was sitting in a chair. "Well, I'm not wearing my heart on my sleeve; I'm not going to run to someone every time I've got a problem just so they can coddle me for all my vulnerability and try to protect me. People trying to protect me is how I was lured to the ministry last year, and accepting help only ever put others in danger; I won't let that happen anymore. I've moved past my sad memories. I've decided that I'll focus on what I can do and how to do it instead of worrying about what I can't change; that's what I've done- just what you said. Happy?"

Snape raised his eyebrows in slight incredulity, and then furrowed them again. "Of all the things I've tried to impress upon you," he said slowly, running his finger calculatingly over his lips, "_that's _the advice you heed?" He lifted his gaze to Harry for a moment, and taking his silence as affirmation, he shook his head. "You misread my implication."

"Then what was your implication?" said Harry challengingly.

"I tried to tell you then exactly what I'm trying to tell you now!" Snape snarled severely. "Somehow, you don't understand that you can't learn everything from yourself, because the tools and knowledge you need to strengthen yourself come from experiences you have yet to face! Part of growing up is learning how to live; this is why those who have lived longer are put in authority over you, to pass down the lessons they have learnt from their mistakes. At the time, I was expressing the necessity that you put aside the thoughts in your head and focus on what needed to be done, I was expressing the necessity that you accept the information being handed to you."

"Maybe what I need to know isn't something that you and Dumbledore can teach me," Harry said quietly, crossing his arms in defiance. He was being forced to reexamine just how influential Snape had been to his behavior the previous year, and again, he found himself bitter towards the man for forcing him to take the actions he had. He had considered every fault of Snape's to Sirius' death except this: that his entire year's treatment had dictated the way Harry had come to react to situations. Perhaps he'd impressed more upon him than either he or Harry had realized.

"And what if it is?" Snape responded sharply. "Do you really want to make that mistake? Do you want to realize with your last gasping breath that you were wrong?" His tone was that of a vehement hiss, but as Harry raised his eyes to the face of the dark man before him, Harry couldn't help noticing that his eyes held none of their usual malice. If anything, it was more of a desperation that suggested just how badly he felt Harry needed to understand his point. Strangely, it made all the difference that he seemed to be saying it more out of care than spite. Instead of the usual anger Harry felt at his words, something like guilt gave him a sharp stab in his chest as his arms dropped to his sides and he stared back.

A strange revelation then occurred to Harry. It was something everyone around him had been trying to say for years, but he understood it now more than ever. Now was the time to be mature; Snape's last sentence had displayed how much bigger this was then a feud between the two of them- this was life and death. Maybe Snape only cared that Harry survived for selfish reasons, but nevertheless, they both held the same desire.

What Harry didn't know, and what Severus Snape had just realized, was that Severus was finding himself horrified at the thought of Harry being killed for reasons which were much more difficult to explain…

xxx End Chapter xxx


	18. A Time for Tea

Chapter 18

Author's notes at bottom

xxx

There was a long silence as professor and student each contemplated his own thoughts. Harry could feel the Potion Master's gaze as it settled on him, and despite his apprehension, he met his eyes.

"Is this what you came for?" he asked quietly, wishing Snape would just leave.

There was a short pause.

"No," Severus said a second later, straightening back up. Until this moment, he had lost sight of his reasons for coming. "I came here because the headmaster paid me a visit earlier and explained to me _why_ my afternoon would not be occupied by Occlumency lessons."

Harry's shoulders slumped slightly as he sat back down in his chair. He'd hoped to lead Snape away from the confrontation; it now seemed he'd led him into another one.

"Now, while he seemed to think you were better left on your own," Severus started with a misleadingly light tone, "I _highly_ disagree." And while this was true, and Severus was effectively presenting a front of formidable displeasure, he was having difficulty conjuring up the feelings to match it.

Harry chanced a look at the Potions Master's face and saw with a surge of dissatisfaction that his expression had darkened once again. He dropped his head in defeat, hoping to appease the Professor.

"A teacher, or any of your elders, for that matter," Severus continued, "should never be expected to brook refusal from you. The fact that you think they should deeply aggravates me…"

Severus took pause, expecting a smart retort from the boy in front of him. However, Harry remained quiet, and Severus found himself at a surprising loss for words. He contented himself with crossing his arms and glaring down at him, but something about the way Harry was glaring evasively at the floor, loathing his very presence there, made him feel a little angrier with himself than anything. After all, Harry really only felt this way towards him because Severus had provoked it all these years. Now, with the scary reality in place that this boy, unacquainted his son, might have limited time, he couldn't help but feel slightly less vengeful towards him. He wasn't repentant, no, but he was feeling a bit more generous... even if not by choice.

Harry looked up after a moment and said dully, "Is that all, sir?"

Severus shifted his jaw and considered Harry through narrowed eyes. He greatly disliked the notion of discontinuing his lecture, but his loss for words would prove his persistence in lecturing the boy fruitless.

"_Don't_," Severus said warningly, raising one long finger to point threateningly at Harry, "let it happen again." He then turned on his heel and swept towards the door, saying over his shoulder, "Be at my office tomorrow, by five o' clock. Don't be late."

xxx

Bright rays of sunshine swept through the windows of Gryffindor tower, streaming across Harry's face and forcing him to consciousness as little pricks of light pried their way into his eyes. With a low groan, he turned over in his bed and lobbed his pillow over his head. He hoped, to no avail, that he might fall back to sleep, for if he woke up, it only meant hours of endless research for the second day in a row, and _that_ he wasn't looking forward to.

Harry finally gave up on his quest for sleep after one extremely restless hour, which he'd spent tossing and turning in his bed in useless attempt to find repose. He could already feel the heat of the day, and dug through his trunk to find the coolest clothing he had brought. After dressing, he padded lightly down the coiled stairs to the common room. He saw with some satisfaction that his books were still strewn across the room; he had worried the house elves might have tidied up and lost his places in the marked chapters.

Thinking he would return to his reading later, Harry headed through the portrait hole and towards the Great Hall for breakfast, hoping he hadn't slept too late. He was starting to enjoy the peacefulness of the castle now; it was lovely to roam the halls early in the day without interruption. It gave him a lot of time to think, a lot of room for clarity, which was a good thing since his life was often far too complicated for his liking.

Harry passed by the classroom in the entrance hall that had been transformed earlier in the previous year to suit Firenze, the new divination teacher. Firenze was a centaur who had been banned from the forest by his herd when he had agreed to help Dumbledore and filled the position that Professor Trelawney had left vacant when sacked by Dolores Umbridge. It had been a huge scene, Harry remembered, leaving Trelawney in tears upon her suitcases as the short, squat, and toad-like ministry official-turned-professor had attempted to have her removed from the castle. Dumbledore had supplied a new teacher before another ministry-ordered teacher had been able to fill the spot, and had ensured Trelawney a home within Hogwarts walls. Harry could still remember Umbridge's veiled rage at this, especially at the fact that a half-breed was the only thing standing in the way of extra support for her and her plans at taking over the school. _Oh, how well those worked out, _Harry thought with a smirk.

Harry vaguely began to wonder what had become of Umbridge before he was struck by a sudden thought; Firenze was a more than competent divination teacher, and who better to ask about dreams? Turning around, Harry ventured hopefully into the open door of the classroom, and was pleased to find Firenze there, writing what looked like a letter.

He looked up calmly, seemingly having already guessed who had just entered the room.

"Harry Potter," Firenze acknowledged, giving Harry a courteous nod before looking back down.

"Hello, Firenze," Harry said pleasantly, watching him with mild interest. "Are you writing a letter?" He had never really thought of centaurs as using the post; they seemed above such ordinary means of communication.

Firenze nodded, still writing and allowing his gaze to remain focused on the parchment. "That I am," he said, "Professor Trelawney wishes to remain in her tower, and I have a difficult time climbing up there. We are coordinating lesson plans through Dumbledore."

"Oh," Harry murmured reminiscently. He remembered hearing something the previous year about the two teaching together and was quite familiar with Trelawney's odd inclinations. It hardly surprised him that she was now refusing to leave her tower.

"Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Potter?" Firenze asked, looking up at Harry.

Snapping back from his thoughts and meeting Firenze's eyes, Harry remembered his reason for being there and nodded. "Yes, actually," he faltered a moment, "er- or, I hope you can. You know a lot about things like dreams and predictions and everything, don't you?"

"Predictions are never reliable," Firenze said steadily, "nor are many forms of dreams."

"Well," Harry said distractedly, thinking he should have been more prepared for such vagueness. "If I were to ask you about the nature of some dreams I've been having, would you be able to tell me about them?"

"One can never tell until the dreams are described to him." Firenze said wisely, moving towards Harry and stopping a short distance in front of him. "But if you were to relate these dreams to me in detail, I might."

"Right," Harry said quietly, flushing slightly and averting his eyes to the ground. "But please, don't tell anyone?"

Firenze nodded compliantly. "Not unless necessary."

Harry was annoyed with this answer, but went on anyways. The curiosity was killing him, and he was positive that another hour in front of an open book would drive him mad.

"Well, alright," Harry started somewhat awkwardly, sitting down on the soft green earth that was the classroom floor. He wasn't quite sure how to explain what had been happening; he couldn't think of a fitting introduction to the story behind his current inquisition. It seemed simplest to cut to the point. "You see, the day I was rescued from Voldemort-" Harry looked up briefly and was glad to see that Firenze had not flinched at the sound of the name. "-I almost died. But for some reason, Snape grabbed my hand, like it would keep me here- and we shared some sort of, umm, connection, you could say."

Harry looked up again to see if Firenze was following, and at his small nod, he continued. "Since then, I've been having these dreams- and they- they all involve him and my mother. It's usually just little scenes between the two, simple conversations or something, but they always seem like they're… a little more than friends. Then, the other night, I had this really strange one where they ran into each other at Diagon Alley, and Snape said a few nasty things to her, and then they just rushed away from each other. I don't get it, and I'm being driven out of my mind. I've researched all sorts of texts on dreams, but it's all so indefinable, I mean, the only tell-tale sign for most of them is whether or not you're asleep-"

Firenze held up a hand, signaling for Harry to fall silent. "Mr. Potter," he started indistinctly, turning and moving towards the window, gazing out towards the lake. "You are aware of the possibility that some dreams are prophetical- tell of the future, correct?"

Harry bit back the urge to say he knew what prophetical meant and nodded, which Firenze must have guessed as he continued without a verbal response.

"Are you aware of the theory that there are dreams which may tell of the past?"

Harry's mouth opened slightly in confusion as he sputtered in response. "Wha- I- well, I'd read that, but I-" he paused. "how?"

"Unfortunately," Firenze said, turning away from the window, "one can hardly ever tell if that is the case. Dreams, as all aspects of divination, are very unreliable. However, the fates often use them as a way of prodding us in the right direction."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what direction would that be?"

"It is difficult to say," said Firenze, gazing upward. "But dreams of the conceptual nature are rarely insignificant. Perhaps you should be spending less time attempting to understand the logical meaning of them, and more to understand the intended purpose for them."

"But," Harry said faintly, still at a loss for words. Was Firenze saying these dreams could be some sort of recollection from the past? That they could be real? "I don't understand."

"Perhaps you are not meant to," said Firenze, "yet."

"But can't you-"

"Our kind do not serve as seers. If the fates inform us of certain events, it is not so that we will reveal them, for if that were the intention of our knowledge, everyone would have it." Firenze turned and gave Harry a distant smile. "In time, Mr. Potter. In time."

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment before rising to his feet. "Right," he said dazedly, stepping towards the door, "well, thanks."

Firenze nodded his welcome and Harry stepped out into the corridor.

Harry had an idea that he was leaving the room in a much more befuddled state than he had entered it with. Too weary to think about Firenze's cryptic words, he tried to shake off the uneasy feeling that had arisen in his chest and went into the Great Hall for some breakfast, glad to find that it was empty of people, but not food.

xxx

If there was one part of the year which Severus loathed above all the rest, it was the two-week period in which the staff of Hogwarts prepared for the start of term. The Headmaster was adamant about multiple staff meetings, finalizing lesson plans, and reminding each teacher, (especially Severus) of what it was he or she needed to take the time to concentrate on. McGonagall was often spoken to about her impatience and constant overworking- Hagrid, his need for caution- and Severus was repeatedly told, (in certain words) to be nice. This bothered him greatly- but often, he let it go, as did the rest of the teachers. This year, however, he'd bitten back at Dumbledore's subtle comments, and now the air between them was very tense as they moved on to lesson plans.

Both were very relieved when McGonagall came to the open door and informed them that Firenze was waiting at the bottom of the staircase to speak to them. Dumbledore made a quiet comment about not expecting him until later, and the two men made their way down to the main floor, where the fair-haired centaur was waiting patiently for them.

"Firenze," Dumbledore said graciously, stepping first off the bottom stair and giving him a nod of greeting.

Firenze returned the nod to both Dumbledore and Severus, saying, "Headmaster Dumbledore, Professor Snape." He paused and discretely glanced around before continuing to the nature of his business.

"Young Mr. Potter was down to see me today," Firenze started purposefully, immediately gaining the two Professors' full attentiveness; Dumbledore because of his ever-present concern for the boy, and Severus because of his alarm that Firenze would presume to involve him. "He has been having dreams."

"With Voldemort?" Dumbledore inquired immediately, looking as though an affirmation would send him bolting straight to Harry.

"No doubt because of his refusal to cooperate," Severus commented sardonically, crossing his arms.

Firenze looked in placid interest between the two, seeming unsurprised yet fascinated with their opposing reactions. "Neither," he responded.

"I am not unaware of the recent discoveries about the child," Firenze went on assiduously. "I was, until now, unsure what course was meant to be followed. It seems apparent, however, that he is intended to learn of his true identity and only you can control how."

Severus was eyeing him askance, arms still crossed and brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

"I mean," Said Firenze a little more compellingly, "that these dreams have all been recounting a history between you and his mother, a history which he is finding very suspicious." Severus paled considerably at this, and though he had remained unchanged in every other way, his face denoted sudden and sickened anxiety. "He's been relentless in discovering the reason behind them, and as they are being shown to him for a reason, likelihood would dictate that he will eventually discover the meaning of them. All it would take would be for him to find the right book."

Severus allowed his widened eyes to linger on the centaur in front of him for a moment, and he then lowered them to the ground in a fixed stare. He hardly dared to glance at the Headmaster as he felt him shift at his side.

"You are sure of this?" he heard Dumbledore say gravely.

"Positive," Firenze said, with more confidence than Severus would have liked. "I promised I would not tell anyone unless necessary, but in this situation—"

"No, you were right to tell us. Thank you, Firenze," Dumbledore said.

Severus could feel the old man's fierce gaze turn upon him as Firenze gave them one last nod, turning and heading in the opposite direction, the clacking of his hooves echoing loudly throughout the silent corridor as he went.

Severus speechlessly turned towards Dumbledore, slowly bringing his eyes up to the man's face. He saw in an instant that the man looked angry and reproving rather than pleading and sympathetic as he would have expected- strangely, it made Severus feel more tolerant towards him.

"Well?" Dumbledore said flatly, his face stricken. He had clearly figured out, some time ago, that Severus had never had any real intention of telling Harry. It had probably been during their argument five minutes previous. "What do you plan to do now?"

Severus looked away, staring down the long corridor, and inhaled deeply. His shock was wearing off, and he found himself filled with dread at the thought of the deliberation he would now have to face. "I think," he said unevenly, "that I will go have a very long cup of tea." At Dumbledore's incredulous look, he added as he brushed past, "to mull over."

xxx End Chapter xxx


	19. So from the Delves of a Troubled Mind

Chapter 19

So from the Delves of a Troubled Mind

xxx

Severus' cup of tea had not had quite the effect he'd hoped for. Far from calming him, it had, for some strange reason, reminded him of how he'd come to this situation. He could still remember the look of horror on Lily's face when his sleeve had fallen back, revealing his ugly scorch-mark, still freshly inscribed on his pallid arm…

Now he was imagining a similar expression staring back at him, with those same hauntingly green eyes screaming denial, in hope that the refusal to believe was not in vain. He could already envision the infuriated teen accusing him of being a liar, or spitting that he could never earn the place of a father in his life. He could already hear Dumbledore admonishing him for going about it the wrong way, for waiting far too long. He could already feel himself being torn again as he felt a pitiful sense of rejection; he could already feel his anger at himself for being so vulnerable, so weak.

Now that he was honestly considering telling Harry, he couldn't help but think about how much this was going to cost him. He'd spent years upon years burying these emotions, and now he was laying all that discipline on the line simply so that he could keep the boy he'd hated, and not even a month earlier, from finding out in a more painful way.

_Why? _He had to ask himself, as he dropped his head to his hands and rubbed his throbbing forehead ineffectually. _Why does this suddenly matter now? What am I trying to save him from, and what has changed that makes me care? _Perhaps it was the fact that before, he could have easily kept this secret and damaged no one apart from himself. In fact, part of his reasoning to Dumbledore had been that the news would only cause the boy to suffer more. Now, however, it had been made clear that Harry was going to find out no matter how Severus attempted to hinder him, and if that was the case, then Severus decided he would rather be viewed as the bearer of bad news than the source of its worsening.

A title suddenly popped into his mind, "_Psychology for the Burdened; How to be the Bearer of Bad News."_

…Had the Headmaster planned this all along? Had he purposely led Severus to this state of emotional collapse, knowing it would take exactly that sort of breakdown to open him up to this possibility? No- as meddlesome as Dumbledore was, he would not have used such destruction for the mere purpose of obtaining the outcome he desired. In all honesty, that was probably more of Severus' style. The most noble thing about Dumbledore, and perhaps the only thing Severus trusted him on anymore, was the fact that he had great power, and though he knew how to wield every aspect of it to his advantage, he would never do so.

In normal circumstances, Severus wouldn't have been so quick to dismiss the notion that Dumbledore had been plotting against him. In fact, normal circumstances would have had him marching up to the Headmaster's office with accusations and insults at the ready, possibly just for the sake of upsetting him. Tonight, however, he found that his mind kept wandering back to the weighty issue at hand.

It had to be done; Severus would tell Harry, there was nothing else for it. The only question was when, and how. How would he even begin to handle this? Could he possibly play father to the boy, at any point in his life? Could he see him as his and Lily's son, rather than as an exact replica of James Potter?

There was a knock at the door; Severus' head snapped up and he stared at the closed entry to the corridor, suddenly remembering the Occlumency lessons he'd ordered the boy to attend. He could hardly back out again—but this was no time for any of the discussion he had in mind to take place. It was hard enough getting the boy to concentrate with a regular state of affairs in place; Severus could not imagine trying to force his mind into submission after giving him this news. These lessons were crucial, so everything else would have to be saved for later. With great effort, Severus cleared his mind and attempted to appear as though nothing was bothering him… more than usual.

"Come in," Severus breathed grimly, dreading the opening of the door.

Harry stepped sullenly into the office and closed the door behind him, his face plainly declaring the fact that he would have preferred enduring a death-defying bout with any one of Hagrid's fearsome pets. He slowly stepped across the office, seemingly wasting as much time as he felt possible, and as Severus edgily observed him, he noticed that the boy was evaluating him with a very odd expression.

In fact, Harry had sensed immediately from the first glance at his professor that something wasn't right- he seemed rather unnerved. His skin was paler than usual, his hands seemed to maintain steadiness only by his resolute control, and he even looked a bit nauseated. Harry narrowed his eyes, wondering what could have happened to throw his ordinarily calm and essentially imperturbable Potions Master into such a state. But further thought was interrupted as Snape met his eyes with a glint behind his own, clearly challenging him to question his shaky state. Harry quickly averted his eyes to the shelves behind Snape's desk.

"Sit," said Severus, pointing at the chair in front of his desk. Harry did.

There was definite tension in the room- or, at least it seemed this way to Severus. He tried desperately to summon up some thought or feeling that would put him at ease and allow him to effectively present his normal state of character. However, a few moments of silence, in which he sought to conjure up some sort of dark ambiance, quickly brought him to the troubling realization that the thoughts and feelings of past wrongdoings were causing him less provocation than they previously had. This lack of provocation only served to obstruct his efforts in forming a suitable mask to cover the torrent of emotions and worries that were currently sweeping through him. Feeling an impending notion of helplessness at this notion, Severus quickly distracted himself with the papers on his desk, looking for something to bring his thoughts and actions back into the his realm of normality.

Harry watched in perplexity as Snape said nothing and busied himself with the papers on his desk. Now that Snape's challenging glare had lifted, he had time to contemplate the justification for the man's peculiar behavior. It took him little time to settle on the most obvious explanation- Snape had probably just returned from a Death Eater's meeting. Surely, remembrance of his last meeting had been sufficient grounds to cause him feelings of immense trepidation in the presence of his tormenters, but the presence of said party had deterred him from releasing his growing burden of anxiety. He was unmistakably suffering the aftereffects of this suppressed trauma to the nervous system.

Satisfied with this conclusion, Harry somewhat relaxed in his chair and recommenced his visual exploration of his surroundings. He returned his eyes to Snape as he pulled out a paper that read across the top, "Adv. Potions- Sixth Year List." He felt his heart plummet as his shoulders went rigid in his chair; he quickly began to strategize for his response to Snape's forthcoming reaction.

Severus was quite pleased with himself in finding the perfect self-diversion. He hadn't even looked at the names of those students in N.E.W.T. Potions until now, and every year he found it interesting going down the list. Often it was a source of great aggravation for him; certainly he'd be better equipped to return to his normal nature after several minutes of sneering at some of the more unexpected names… but he had no idea just how unexpected one of them was going to be.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably as Snape ran his cold eyes down the list. At a few points, Harry tensed as his professor raised a doubtful eyebrow and shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Harry knew for a fact, however, that Snape had reached _his_ name when his eyes grew wide and then narrowed again. He set the parchment down after a moment, and after gazing at it another second his eyes flew to meet Harry's face, an anticipated glare of deep accusation directed at the boy before him. A long moment of silence followed, but Harry maintained steady and unwavering eye contact with the Potions master, refusing to yield to his usual manner of coercion.

"How do you explain this?" Severus finally said, brandishing the list at him.

Harry shrugged in an unabashed way, crossing his arms and casting his eyes off to the side. He didn't need to explain how anything had happened- it was enough that he was in the class, and Snape would have to simply accept it. After all, even Harry wasn't able to figure out how he'd been able to get in… after his talk with Firenze, he had actually wondered if his acceptance into the class was somehow the fates' way of pushing him in the career direction he had decided on. Then he had remembered how much he hated divination, and passed it off as sheer luck.

Severus impatiently smacked the list back down on his desk, looking disgruntled. "Have you lost the ability to speak?" he inquired disdainfully.

Harry unaffectedly returned his gaze to the Potion Master's sharply featured face, and said levelly, "I just thought you'd want to get on with the lesson, sir."

"Not particularly," Severus sneered, looking him over in distaste. "What I'm interested in," he said, lowering his voice, "Is how _you_ managed to become eligible for my N.E.W.T. course. You can't have achieved an Outstanding on the exam, the way you perform in class."

"I did, though," Harry said smoothly, now realizing he could draw thorough enjoyment from Snape's bafflement.

"Let me rephrase that," Severus said tersely. "You can't have _earned _an Outstanding on the exam. Pardon the confusion."

"What are you saying?" Harry asked, forcing his voice under control as he leaned forward in his chair. "Because I didn't cheat, if that's what you mean. You can't cheat on those things."

"No, Potter," Severus said, narrowing his eyes and resting his arms over his chest. "I don't think you've got the brains to cheat. You'd have to be very clever to pull one over on the professors running the O.W.L.s, and as we've covered before, you have no subtlety. However, you do have a very high advantage over the other students, being that the ministry has some, ah, _misguided treatment_ to make up for. All you'd have to do was put in a simple request… "

"I didn't!" Harry protested defensively, abandoning his former resolve to disallow his Professor to get to him. He had thought, for a moment, that he would be able to inwardly jeer at Snape's lack of ability to deduce the reason for his high scores, but this was just aggravating. "I've not had any contact with the ministry, when would I have done it?"

"Perhaps we'll see," Severus said, pulling out his wand and making a show of twiddling it between his fingers. "But first," He leaned in and looked very darkly at Harry. He was secretly quite pleased with how this argument was progressing- the boy would never suspect a thing. "I think we should discuss the circumstances of these lessons."

In this moment, he wished more than anything that he could pull out his wand and hex Snape, hex his ugly overlarge nose right off his stupid sallow face. Then he wouldn't have to deal with this anymore… actually, he wouldn't. Snape would probably kill him.

"You will, under no circumstances, invade or exploit my memories again," Severus said threateningly. "I will not tolerate—"

"If I accidentally break into your mind, I can't help that!" argued Harry angrily, running his hand over the top of his head in irritation.

"Therefore I included the word _exploit_." Severus said pointedly, maintaining his irritatingly placid tones. Harry resisted the strong temptation to kick his professor under the desk; his leg was perfectly positioned to do so…

Severus continued. "You will still refer to this as remedial potions, and—"

"But professor, if I'm in the N.E.W.T. potions-"

"Don't interrupt me Potter," Severus said warningly, and Harry crossed his arms as he sat back in his chair. The man was being highly unreasonable.

"And you will try," Severus continued. "You _will _practice. I will not have my time wasted, and I will not stand by and watch the order fall to pieces because you won't put the effort in to keep the Dark Lord out of your mind. I've worked too hard and too long to see him win because the boy who's supposed to bring his defeat had Quidditch practice. Is that understood?"

Harry could hardly believe what he was hearing. Snape made it seem as though Harry couldn't care less about what Voldemort did, as if he were too selfish to care. Voldemort had killed his parents, his godfather, his friend… he'd robbed from him every happy moment he should have had in his childhood, and was now stealing all the good ones he was supposed to be having at Hogwarts. Voldemort was the reason Harry was cooped up in this stupid office with Snape lecturing him, and… that was it, Voldemort had to die.

"I said, is that understood, Potter?" Severus repeated in a raised voice, snapping Harry to attention.

Harry thought to argue for a moment. He wanted to protest that he wanted Voldemort gone just as badly, probably more. However, he'd known Snape too long to think the man would let such statements go, so he resisted the urge.

"Yeah," Harry said tonelessly, again looking off to the side. In the past two weeks, he'd been kidnapped by Lucius Malfoy, nearly killed, rescued by Snape, held hostage in the hospital wing, tossed into the middle of an argument he had no place in, and graced with Snape's presence in Gryffindor tower. He was tired, school was starting soon, and for some reason, all of this had him too disoriented to attempt challenging Snape any further. "Shall we get on with it, then?" He asked, still with the same unbothered tone.

Severus didn't know how to respond to this. He'd been working for some sort of response from the child, but still the boy was giving him nothing by which he could react to, nothing to set the standard for his disposition. He was completely devoid of all the usual arrogance and defiance that bothered Severus so much. What was he getting at?

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Clearly, there is more that needs to be covered."

"What?" Harry said exasperatedly, unable to stop himself rolling his eyes. "I understand, alright? I'll show up, I'll stay out of your pensieve, and I'll practice. What more do you want?"

"Respect, Potter," Severus said, tracing the outline of his thin mouth with the tip of his finger. "You will give it to me, as I am rightfully owed. Difficult though it may be for you to display such chastening behavior, it should have prevented all the problems you've previously caused."

All the problems _he'd _caused? What about the problems Snape had caused?

"…If you respected my time, you would have practiced,"

Harry clenched his fists and gritted his teeth inside his mouth, trying his hardest to hold back the stream of retorts threatening to flow from his pursed lips.

"…If you had respected my privacy, we would have continued these lessons,"

Harry continued to try and block him out. His chest was heaving, his face growing hot as he listened to Snape continue his unjust lecture.

"…If you respected the Order—"

That was it. Harry had had enough. He could no longer stop himself from speaking.

"If _you _respected the order, you wouldn't have thrown me out!" The words had come very quickly, bursting from his mouth like water through a dam.

There was an intense feeling of foreboding hanging in the silence of the room as Snape stood up, glaring down at Harry menacingly. "_Do not raise your voice to me,_" He hissed softly. "You deserved to be thrown out, you deserved a lot worse."

"Well, obviously," Harry said challengingly, he too rising to his feet, "you didn't really think that your actions were so justified, seeing as how you waited until Dumbledore was gone to see them through. You want to know what I think? I think you were just waiting for him to be gone, glad, even—"

_Oh, there's the Potter I know so well, _Severus thought triumphantly to himself as he swooped around the desk and grabbed Harry firmly by the arms.

"Do not ever," he snarled through clenched teeth, "speak that way to me again, or you will be very sorry indeed. Whatever transpires between the headmaster and I has nothing to do with you. I know from past experience that you pride yourself in your little detective skills, but do not make the mistake of concerning yourself with matters which involve me. The headmaster may see your prying ways as noble, or brought about by innocent curiosity, but I, Potter, can see straight through the false façade of purity that you so _valiantly_ flaunt every day. I will make _no_ excuses for your behavior, do not make the mistake of thinking I will."

"You're hurting my arm." Harry said blankly, knowing just how much his unwillingness to react would irritate his professor.

Severus glared at him for a moment before angrily thrusting him towards the center of the room and moving his desk back.

"I'm counting to five," He said, turning to Harry. He raised his wand. "Then the lesson commences."

Harry regained his balance and spun around to stare at him, eyes wide. He hadn't really expected this so suddenly, and five seconds to clear his mind? For pity's sake…

"_Legilimens!" _

Harry braced himself just in time; the spell hit in a fleeting instant, causing his memories to whirlwind through his mind. He saw himself, sitting in his room, watching two dogs fight in the street; absentmindedly stabbing his parchment with his quill … He was gazing at Ginny Weasley, crumpled in a heap in the Chamber of Secrets. He was… he was doing nothing to stop this! _Why not?_

For the first time in a long stretch, Harry concentrated all his efforts on the task of occlumency, and though he was doing it more as an act against Snape, the effort was nevertheless present. He attempted to somehow wipe his mind blank, focusing in on his determination to force his attacker from the pool of thoughts buried within his mind. One by one, he emptied what he could almost envision as a collection of thoughts and memories… extracting them one by one and mentally storing them in a place safe from Snape… and suddenly, he realized it was working. His mental vision was becoming hazy- he could feel Snape fighting harder to gain access to his mind…

Snape was pushing back with what seemed like all of his strength, tugging at the more painful memories. Harry was refusing to take the Triwizard cup… he was watching Wormtail cut off his own limb, screaming in agony…

_No, _argued a little voice in his head. _No, I will not watch this. I will not relive the moments I've been trying so hard to forget! _

Harry fought back harder, now focusing on his sheer determination to win this battle of wills; what he didn't realize was that he was feeding emotion into his brain for Snape to tap into- focusing on a goal very different from preserving his memories, a goal of gaining victory against his Professor. It happened in an instant; one moment he was focusing on his resolve to force Snape from his mind, and the next, fragments of memories not his own flashed before his eyes. He had forced through to Snape's mind; he hadn't intended to, yet he had.

A very small Snape was boarding the Hogwarts Express, a small smile on his face as he went to enter one of the compartments, and the smile vanishing as James and Sirius laughed and pushed him out of the room, slamming the door and smirking at him. A small redhead frowned darkly at them and let him into hers… Snape was throwing Lily onto his doorstep, a vehement look of fury on his face… Dumbledore was speaking with Lily, as she said, "Severus can never know."… Snape was staring at Dumbledore in an expression of disbelief…

Harry faintly heard Snape yelling at him to stop, but he didn't want to. These memories could have something to do with all his dreams, and after all his vain investigation, he wasn't about to give up a tool of research that was being so easily handed to him. He focused on the visions coming together like a play…

A scene with Dumbledore and Snape again flashed before his eyes.

"If the boy I've known for the past five years is the boy who's supposed to be my son," Snape was saying loudly, drowning out Dumbledore, "then I don't know if I want to be his father."

"No!" Harry heard himself scream as he mentally released his professor, falling to the ground with a painful, yet unfelt, thud. As suddenly as the vision had entered his mind came an understanding of what it meant… what it was connected to. It all made sense now; he understood. All the strange dreams he'd been having, coming together like a storybook created for the sole purpose of explaining his existence- they tied in directly with Snape's memories. They perfectly explained the strange behavior his Professor been demonstrating, the odd look on the Headmaster's face whenever he spoke to Harry, and the uneasiness of the Potions Master whenever Dumbledore attempted to force reconciliation between the two of them. He remained there, staring wide-eyed and unfixed as his mind frantically attempted to connect the scattered thoughts running through his head. He knew- the man before him knew… and he wanted nothing to do with it.

A mixture of fury, hate, and barely perceptible hurt filled Harry's chest as smoldering hot smoke from a raging fire; he finally abandoned his aimless stare and lifted his eyes to the man before him. Snape was grabbing at his desk for support, gasping for breath, and Harry was gazing up at him with a dark, angry look in his eyes.

"The- hell- Potter," Severus was wheezing.

"What was that?" Harry asked coldly, the mere chill in his voice demanding control of the situation, with the effect most sixteen-year-old boys could never hope to achieve.

Severus froze inwardly; how much had the boy seen? To which memory was he referring? Severus made an active attempt to compose himself, standing up and catching his breath. It took him little more than a moment to construct a response that would give nothing away, for he couldn't risk presuming the worst; there was a slim possibility that Harry was asking about a memory entirely different from the one Severus was so dreading he had witnessed.

"That was called Legilimency, Potter," Severus breathed, endeavoring to sneer despite his distress as his inhalation finally slowed. "We've been through this enough times that even a boy as thick as you should be able—"

"You know what I'm talking about," Harry said angrily, getting to his feet. He couldn't believe Snape was going to attempt to deny him knowledge when Harry had just witnessed it himself. Did he really feel it that imperative that it should be concealed? Was he really that repulsed by the idea of Harry as his son that he couldn't inform him of the latter? These thoughts welled up inside of Harry, constricting his chest in a still undecipherable combination of rejection and resentfulness, and the nasty insults he'd been ready to fire off at Snape faltered, turning into a weak stutter. "What- you- my?"

Severus looked at him for a moment. The boy's topic of inquiry was made obvious by the dejected and confused look on his face, which was being poorly concealed with a mask of would-be anger. Further protest seemed pointless, and somewhat cruel, so Severus allowed the hard expression on his face to relent as he defeatedly said, "I only found out two weeks ago, myself."

Harry considered his Professor for a moment. He would have expected to find traces of annoyance or bitterness evident in Snape's voice and face, but quite the opposite, the man looked almost apologetic. Things were becoming confused again; if Snape had wanted to keep this from him so much, then why did he now appear diffident in his usual manner? Why now did he seem concerned with Harry's reaction?

"Was this before or after your Death Eater's meeting?" Harry asked, trying to sound somewhat forceful rather than hopeful, as he self-refutingly felt. Perhaps this had happened a considerable time ago- perhaps Snape's ideas had changed since then. He had seemed somewhat different after that time, and Harry had attributed it to the fact that he had just saved his life. Maybe, however, there had been more to it. If he said before… maybe he really—

"After," Severus said simply. He couldn't help but observe the renewed trace of hurt on Harry's face with this answer, though it was quickly covered up.

Harry dropped his gaze, attempting to hide the pained look he knew had just crossed his face. It didn't matter- he wouldn't have even wanted Snape to desire some sort of relationship anyways. After all, he hated the man- but there was no denying of the fact that it was somewhat upsetting knowing his true father was alive and wanting nothing to do with him.

But then, who was to say that a biological relationship really earns anyone the title of father? Adopted children still referred to their guardians as "mum" and "dad," because those were the people who took care of them, who loved them, who raised them. The man standing here still hated him despite their relationship, and that certainly didn't qualify him as fitting the position of father in Harry's life. James had loved Harry as his own, and he had known what Harry had come from. He had even stayed when Voldemort had come after them because of Harry's mere existance. He'd been the better man than Snape; there was no question about that.

Snape had hated Harry because of who his father was; James had loved him despite it. No- it hardly mattered that his "father" wanted nothing to do with him. It was a little disappointing, yes, but hardly something deserving of rumination.

"Well," Harry said abruptly, getting to his feet and gathering his things. He couldn't stay here another minute, and was fairly positive Snape wouldn't much mind if he left. "You'll be _really glad _to know that I don't want to be your son, either."

"What?" Severus queried, perhaps with a little more annoyance than was needed, as he followed the boy's movements with his dark gaze.

Harry rounded on him, chest heaving and face contorted with an unfamiliar expression of bitterness. "I know how you feel about it, alright? Yeah, saw that part! But don't worry about it, I won't be a trouble for you- I'd much rather live with the fact that my father is dead than the fact that he hates me, so since it's clearly alright with you, we can both just pretend this never happened!" Harry furiously snatched his bag from the nearby chair and made to storm past Snape, refusing to give him the satisfaction of eye contact.

Severus' eyes widened slightly; he knew the boy had just received a shock, but there was no excuse for this behavior. He couldn't allow him to leave, not this way- and Harry certainly couldn't once again be allowed to win an argument with his superior through disobedience. Too thrown to realize the stupidity of his following action, he jumped over and slammed the door shut the minute Harry had yanked it open.

"You will not walk away from me!" Severus bellowed, bearing down on Harry.

Harry, however, was not impressed, nor was he intimidated, by this. His emotions felt numb- there was an immense buzz surrounding every nerve in his body and repelling all rational thought from his brain. He had one goal, and that was to leave. "Expelliarmus," he said quietly, sending Snape's wand flying only a few feet away. "Now move."

Severus remained rooted on the spot, confident that Harry would do little more to prevent him from doing so. Angry and impulsive though he knew the boy to be, he very highly doubted he'd actually take this a step further and attack his Professor… he soon found he'd underestimated him; he was suddenly hit with a weak blasting curse and sent sprawled across the floor.

"Potter!" He shouted after the boy, now grasping the futility and foolishness of his actions… but it was too late. Harry was gone.

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: A HUGE thank you to my betas **Rlmess **and **Cithara**.

Thank you for your reviews, they keep me going!


	20. History from a New Standpoint

Chapter 20

History from a New Standpoint

xxx

Severus picked himself up off the ground, but made no attempt to go after Harry. Exceedingly obstinate and belligerent though he was, Severus was able to recognize defeat when it had overtaken him. He leaned wearily against the frame of the door, rubbing his forehead with his hand, a bleak and burdened expression on his face. There was no escaping the truth; he was at a loss for what to do. He wasn't good with this sort of thing; he never had been. Even when he and Lily had been involved, it had always taken a huge sacrifice of pride on his part merely to approach her after a quarrel; but then, she had always understood this.

Severus and Lily had been an odd pair. No one, aside from the two of them, really knew how they'd come to be together. It had all started with a fight- funny thing that it ended the same way. But all throughout the time they'd been involved with one another, there had rarely been a month in which they'd avoided having a row. Admittedly, such fights had almost always been Severus' fault, for Lily knew when she was wrong and often would give in when Severus confronted her about it. He, however, had been a different story; many people had reasoned that this was why she had been so good for him. She had been the one person able to control him, and keep him within his boundaries. She knew not to be afraid of him. If he ever raised his voice to her, she would immediately come back and put him in his rightful place. If he ever ventured into possessive territory, she was quick to draw his attention to it, and the way in which she did it always brought it to an immediate stop. Indeed, she had kept him from becoming his father, and her fiery temper that did it was one of the qualities that Severus had admired most about her.

Lily had realized, long before they'd married, that apologies were not one of his strong points. Her mother had always joked about how the male ego needs constant feeding, and Lily had never realized, until she dated Severus, how right her dear mum had been. Years of ridicule and derision had turned him into an incredibly insecure man, and it was a quality leading to the worst of his character flaws. She'd recognized what it meant when he would drag himself into the room sometime after a quarrel, and accepted his standing there in silence and struggling for words as his pathetic attempt at apology. She knew what that alone cost him, and was generous enough to help him out with the words he needed to say, and without discrediting his dignity. But now she was gone, and the person with whom his compunction now rested wouldn't allow him the same grace.

Now Severus was going to have to be the adult. He was going to have to take control of the situation before it escalated to a level out of his hands- but like years ago, he had no clue as to the way he was going to do this. He'd always depended on Lily for these things... but she was gone now. Thinking hard, he realized that after their relationship's end, he'd always gone to Albus…

With a disgruntled sigh, Severus looked around and stepped into the corridor, closing his office door behind him. He set off down the cold dungeon hallway, glaring off into a distance. He knew there was no other option; he had nowhere else to go, no one to turn to, and his desire to keep the news under wraps canceled out the prospect of anyone else he might have considered. Strange as it was, he was battling his own critical judgment, willing himself to make the choice to seek help. He tried painstakingly so not to think about all the reasons he resented having to go to this man. He tried not to think about the fact that he was only in this position because of him… and then, he wondered what it would be like if he weren't in this position…

If given the chance, would he go back and choose never to know? Would he prefer to be going about his business, suffering under the false pretense that his wife had cheated on him with his worst mortal enemy? It seemed to him that this might actually be the better way. If his "son" wanted nothing to do with him, then he was satisfied leaving that alone; he'd still benefit from being able to go through his days with less bitterness at the woman he loved. It was much less burdensome to hold onto her memory with fond remembrance than it was to try to force his indelible hate for her to the back of his mind- day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute…

As Severus arrived at the headmaster's door, it took every ounce of strength in him to raise his hand and rap his knuckles against it. It took every last bit of willpower he possessed not to turn and recede down the coiled stairs as he heard Dumbledore's gentle voice inviting him inward.

Placing his hand on the bronze, Griffin-shaped door handle, he allowed it to linger there a moment as he prepared himself. Now was not the time to treat the headmaster with hostility- not when he desperately needed the man's council. In one motion, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, waiting in the doorway for a moment to observe the surprised look on Dumbledore's face.

"Severus," Dumbledore said, indistinctly expressing it as a statement expressing his subtle astonishment.

"Please, sit," he said after a moment of gazing at the darkly robed wizard standing there. He invitingly motioned to the chair in front of his desk and sat back in his own.

Severus suppressed his annoyance at the Headmaster's manner; he knew the portrait hanging outside the office door always informed Dumbledore of who was standing on the other side. He was unsure whether to think that Dumbledore had felt he needed to see it to believe it, or that he was simply refraining from flaunting the fact that he was "all-knowing."

"I must say, I'm a little surprised to see you here, Severus," Dumbledore said conversationally, selecting a small piece of candy out of the jar he'd removed from his desk and then offering a piece to Severus, who shook his head to decline. "I hadn't thought you would venture up to see me on your own for quite some while."

Severus was tapping his fingers on the arm of his seat, glowering with restrained incense as Dumbledore spoke. Did he realize how he was reminding Severus of the reasons for which he had almost turned around?

"Is everything alright, then?" Dumbledore asked casually, making Severus wonder if he already knew what had happened.

The begrudged expression on Severus' face faded as he raised an eyebrow and looked evasively down at his lap. "The boy knows, Albus," he said, and Dumbledore refrained from smiling at the use of his first name. "He saw our conversation during Occlumency, less than an hour ago."

Severus returned his gaze to Dumbledore's face, and the Headmaster was resting his chin on his knuckles, looking thoughtful. He nodded.

"I suspected something to this extent might happen," Dumbledore said quietly, maintaining his fixed stare. "How did he react?"

Severus hesitated to answer; this was the part he had been dreading. He was going to have to explain what had happened and be forced to endure the Headmaster's reproving lecture after having done so.

"Not well," Severus admitted. "Though I suppose the effects might have been somewhat muted if I hadn't lost my temper-" he paused, but the headmaster said nothing. Severus got the idea he had expected this to happen as well. "He saw a portion of our conversation, and I don't doubt he took the things I said in a very different way than they were intended."

Dumbledore remained quiet for a moment, examining his hands in front of him. In truth, every problem that was arising was a problem Dumbledore had foreseen happening, and about which he had warned the man in front of him. He was resisting pointing out that this could have been avoided had Severus early on followed his instructions, but chastisement wasn't what he needed right now, this much was clear.

"What do _you_ think best to do?" Dumbledore finally asked, looking up at Severus.

Severus looked at him for a moment, seemingly debating his reply. "I don't want to leave it at this," he said a moment later. "I don't desire a relationship with him enough to seek one out, but I don't think he should be denied that opportunity-" he stopped, catching himself. "That is to say-" he faltered again, and Dumbledore came to his rescue.

"You don't want to wonder 'what if'," Dumbledore said quietly, and their eyes met.

"No," Severus agreed quietly. "I don't. And I don't want him having false ideas about what really happened- if he's going to hate me, fine, he probably deserves to. But resentment is a detrimental feeling for the young to harbor. If he must, it might as well be for due reason."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, and this time could not deny himself a small smile. "Well, therein your answer lies," he said, sitting back again.

Severus looked up at him questioningly.

"You came here to seek my advice, did you not?" asked Dumbledore.

"I did," said Severus, eyebrows furrowed.

"And you just answered your own question," said Dumbledore, shrugging his shoulders as though it should have been very obvious. "Tell him what you just told me. Find him, tomorrow, after he's had some time to blow off steam. Ask him if he will allow you to explain some things, and then take him somewhere quiet, preferably where he will have a difficult time storming away, and tell him everything. Allow him to react- he deserves that concession- and answer any questions he may ask. You needn't plead, or behave any differently than what is true to your nature in relation to your current thoughts. This may have been different a while ago, but I think you've started coming to terms with the appropriate actions on your own.

"Above all, be patient. He will come to you, in time, if he knows he can. Harry is one to take things very seriously at first, but he's a smart boy, and eventually he'll see that the opportunity is there… if you'll only make clear to him that it always will be. Family is all he ever really wanted, before all these burdens were placed upon his shoulders. I think he'd be glad for a bit of security."

"I doubt he desires such security from me," Severus observed sardonically. He did not sound upset or mournful about this prospect, but rather, he sounded accepting. It was clear from his tone of voice that he had realized how little he deserved any fond recognition from Harry, and had come to terms with the fact that he had no right to partiality on the boy's feelings towards him.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Severus," Dumbledore said gently, walking around his desk and placing a hand on Severus' shoulder. "Let him get to know you, the real you- the one no one else sees. He can't dislike you for that."

Severus dropped his head. Dumbledore's earnest compliments stirred a strange emotion in him, though he couldn't tell quite what it was.

"I still don't see how I can reconcile-"

"Not reconciliation," said Dumbledore. "More of a subtle truce, if you will. I don't think that's so demanding, do you?"

"I suppose not," Severus admitted, thinking that it did in fact sound much easier than straightforward apology would be.

Dumbledore retook his seat, and an understanding seemingly reached that this concluded their conversation. Severus stood and moved towards the door. When he'd reached the halfway point, he paused, and then turned, looking at Dumbledore very seriously.

"And Albus, I appreciate your help-" though his tone was far from appreciative; rather, it was hard and inarguable. "But I want your word that you'll interfere no more."

Severus hardly needed to say anything further; his meaning was clear. Under no circumstances would he tolerate Dumbledore's meddling, on any account… and the aged man sitting across the room understood that beyond doubt.

"Of course," Dumbledore said. He'd already made this promise to himself, and as Severus had been refusing to speak to him freely up until this point, he wasn't eager to set the man off again. "You have my word."

"Thank you," Severus said with a curt nod, before making his final movements out the door.

xxx

Harry had resisted crying for a long time, but as he found whilst he sat alone this night in Gryffindor tower, tears of grief are much easier to suppress than tears of rage. If one were to take a peek into his dormitory room at this moment in time, that person might wonder just what had happened there. The books that had been neatly stacked next to his bed were now strewn across the floor, having been thrown from the surface of the nightstand Harry had kicked transverse. His pillows were lying disorderedly about the room; they'd been whipped in every direction as he'd attempted to vent his frustration. All this had been done in Harry's desperate attempt to release his fury in a way that felt less weak than the alternative of tears.

It hadn't been so hard when he'd been in Snape's office; it had been no more to him than looking at the face of the man he'd hated for the past five years and realizing that there was supposed to be some sort of symbolic connection between them. However, now that he was no longer in the presence of the man, he couldn't help but think of the situation in terms of what his _father _felt about him, rather than what _Snape _felt about him.

And it hurt… there was no lying about it; it hurt to know that he had a father who hated him. It hurt him to know that his true father had never loved him, that he didn't have a man in his heritage to be proud of, to want to become like, as all young boys do… that he'd even begun hating Harry's mother, most likely when he'd found out she was with child. He imagined Snape had lied about finding out about their relationship mere weeks before; after all, how difficult would it have been for Snape to realize that he'd been with Lily at the time of Harry's conception? No, Snape hated children, which was obvious from the way he taught his classes… it wasn't difficult to imagine Lily happily telling him the news and him being repulsed by the idea of having to chase a sticky, whiny, clingy child all around. He would have easily thrown her out the door without a moment's hesitation.

Harry was very confident that all of these things he'd imagined were true, but he still couldn't fathom how the fact that Snape was his father had stayed hidden for so long… he had a very strong suspicion that Dumbledore and his Mother were heavily involved. Magic was the only way to explain his likeness to James Potter- everyone told him he was the man's exact replica. Things must have been really horrible for his mother to have been forced to take such drastic measures to ensure no one would never find out…

And yet he had. If what Snape had said was true, how _had_ he come to learn that Harry was his son? Why did he have to be told? Could he really have been in the dark all these years? There were many things Harry didn't know about Snape, and one of the greatest mysteries about him was involving his past… just what had happened? Why had his mother wanted to protect him- no- _from what_ had his mother tried to protect him?

He needed to know. He needed to know what had happened before he made any decisions, before he deciphered the best course of action. He now knew nothing about his past… he now knew nothing about the man he was supposed to call "Dad."

Tomorrow he would go and see Dumbledore. He didn't dare to risk the trip tonight- he couldn't stand the thought of what might happen if he ran into Snape on the way. He even worried that the man might pursue him to Gryffindor tower again… which was why he was staying inside his room. If Snape did come, Harry had seven floors that he could switch back and forth from, giving him a much better course of evasion than he had in the common room. No- tomorrow was the day he would venture out into the castle corridors. He would go and speak with Dumbledore, for he had no other option. He had to know what all of this meant… he had to know what to do.

Harry wearily collected the pillows he'd tossed from his bed and replaced them at the head of his four-poster. Dejectedly looking around at his room, he slowly lowered his head to his pillows and brought his knees close to his chest, trying to ignore the single tear that had trickled down his cheek.

xxx

Harry slept restlessly that night, his dreams filled with the continuous looming presence of a darkly robed man hovering over him. More than once, he'd awoken with a start and flown up into the darkness, staring around at the black space of his dormitory and half-expecting Snape to be standing there. Every time, however, he'd calmed down enough to realize that he was alone, and his dream had not manifested itself into reality.

It was early morning when one final nightmare stirred Harry from his sleep- a nightmare that wouldn't allow him to close his eyes again. Snape had appeared in Harry's dormitory room, a nasty smile curled around his thin lips and a dangerous gleam in his eyes. Harry had tried to escape- he'd begged for his life… but Snape would have none of it. He'd insisted that this was the only way for him to live a peaceful life- he'd insisted with a sharp pierce of a blade that Harry forever stay separate from him. As Harry's dream world faded into blackness with the dark calm of death, the real one came into focus, and he shakily realized where he was.

Breathing heavily and sitting up slowly, Harry reached over and lifted the clock from his nightstand. It was five o' clock in the morning. The staff members who had returned to Hogwarts in order to prepare for start of term always ate together around nine o' clock, and if Harry hurried, he could satisfy his growling stomach, speak with Dumbledore, and be back in Gryffindor Tower before Snape had even risen from his bed.

Still damp with sweat from his dream, Harry washed quickly and hurried to get dressed before making his way out the common room door. He stepped out into the lonely corridor and glanced around; no one was there. Trying to breathe a little easier, feeling stupid for being so shaken by a simple dream, he followed the long, stone hallways to the Great Hall.

He reached the great doors leading into the room and attempted to push them open, but they wouldn't budge. He tried again, pushing against them with all his strength, but still they didn't move. He stepped back and looked at them for a moment in frustration.

"Come on," Harry groaned, shoulders slumped in exasperation. He had no desire to go down to the kitchens for food, as he would then be one level closer to Snape. "Open up, I'm hungry!"

And as though he had spoken the magic words, there was a loud clack and the doors slowly opened, the candles inside lighting themselves as he set foot into the hall. Displayed on the Gryffindor table was enough breakfast food for one person, and Harry gladly sat in front of it, piling his plate full of eggs and sausages.

Within ten minutes, he'd nearly inhaled all of the food he'd put on his plate, and was ready for a second helping. Just as he'd eagerly reached towards the refilled plates of food, however, he realized that the looming shadow that had haunted his previous night's dreams was now hovering in front of him… and this was no dream. Snape was looking down at him, and he was just as real as the bench on which Harry sat.

Snape seemed to be waiting for Harry to speak, as he remained silent with his gaze fixed on the boy. Harry resisted swallowing the dry lump in his throat and said, "How did you know I would be here?" His voice was quieter, and more croaky than he would have liked it to be.

Severus rolled his eyes. "You're so predictable," he stated, shaking his head. Harry didn't realize that this wasn't being directed as an insult, and glared hard at the man. Severus watched him for a moment, and then, ignoring his defiant expression, said, "I wonder if I could have a word."

Harry opened his mouth- and then he stopped himself. He wanted to refuse. He didn't want to speak to Snape right now; he didn't want to be around him, and had no idea what the Potion's Master had in mind when he said he "wanted a word." But the memory of Snape's ire when he'd refused to comply with Dumbledore's requests was still fresh in his mind, so Harry closed his mouth.

After taking a mournful look around at the food yet to be devoured, Harry grudgingly rose from his seat. Snape turned and walked towards the staff table, and Harry assumed that he was to follow as the older man headed towards the exit behind it. Snape pushed through the door and Harry followed him down a narrow set of stairs and an unfamiliar corridor, before Snape finally came to a halt at the end of a narrow hallway branching off from there.

Severus turned to Harry, attempting not to seem too threatening or menacing as he spoke. "These are my private quarters," said Severus, nodding towards the door in front of which they stood. "They are revealed to very few, and I expect that fact to remain. Do I make myself clear?"

Harry gave the door a resentful glance, and then nodded. "Yes," he said. "But I'm not sure I feel comfortable here- perhaps your office would be more appropriate."

His tone was icy and biting, and Severus could tell that he meant this as a personal affront towards him, alluding to the fact that their relationship was on a student-teacher level only… perhaps denoting his anger at that… or perhaps not. Did he think that Severus _wanted_ some sort of bond with him? It was just the self-centered sort of assumption… but then, Severus was jumping to old conclusions again. He was forgetting his purpose in bringing the boy here… oh, there were a thousand insults he could hurl at the boy right now, yes- and he knew just where to strike. He could teach this boy a lesson for trying to direct slights at his Professor… but then he would be completely destroying the lesson he needed to show him right now… that this wasn't about their past relationship, and it wasn't about who was in power. It was about telling him the truth; it was about making sure that he didn't feel the pain of rejection from his own father if he wanted to avoid it. Severus took a deep breath and looked Harry in the eyes.

"First, Professor Dumbledore knows you are here, so rest assured that you are not wandering into some trap, as I know the idea will have crossed your mind," Severus started. "You may go and ask him yourself, if you like. Second, I have some things I wish to discuss with you that I don't feel should be spoken about in my office, for several reasons."

Harry studied him for a moment. "And what is it that needs to be discussed, _sir_?" he asked, tone still dark and bitter.

"Many things," Severus said, turning and opening his door. He stepped inside. "Are you coming in, or shall I wait here while you check with the headmaster to ensure I have not plotted your murder?"

Harry looked around, arms folded. Snape had no idea how close to the truth he was coming… after that nightmare, he wasn't sure what to expect. Finally, because he did not wish to make Snape see him as weaker than he already believed, Harry stepped inside, moving a bit past Snape, and looked around.

The rooms were not in a horrible state- in fact, they were furnished quite nicely. Harry could see several closed doors and a small hallway from where he stood, and as he looked around, he observed that they were standing in a room that combined a small dining area with the living area. To his left was a semicircle of counter space with cupboards aligned above. In the center was a small table- it was square and made of dark, cherry colored wood. There were three matching chairs placed around it, pushed in neatly.

To his right and in front of him was a long stretch of space, filled with a dark, black leather couch and two chairs in the same fashion. The stunted table in the center was made of the same type wood that the dining area and fireplace were done in- cherry maple wood- and the ground was stone, but covered with a long, black and red area rug, which was laced with silver designs.

Harry's eyes now drifted to the windows, which Snape must have noticed as he spoke up from behind.

"We're not in the dungeons," the Potions Master informed him, stepping forward. "The Great Hall is on a rise, and the dungeons are actually much lower than this. There is a small staircase leading up here from the locked area in my office- that out there is a balcony, if you wanted to know."

Harry nodded, and then wondered why they were talking about the location of Snape's private quarters. "You said you wanted a word," Harry said coldly, turning to him and behaving as though he cared nothing for what Snape was telling him about his rooms.

Severus studied him for a moment, and then nodded curtly. "Yes, I did," he agreed, subduing his temper, which he could feel threatening to rise. It wasn't as though he really wanted to continue small talk with the boy, but the fact that he was being so rudely dismissed irritated him. "Have a seat."

Harry silently did as he was told, keeping his face completely impassive as he sank into the couch which Snape had motioned to.

"There are," Severus started, settling in the chair across from Harry, "some things which I feel I owe you explanations for."

Harry raised his eyebrows with an expression that clearly said, "_No kidding,_" but remained silent. Was Snape really going to explain this all to him? Was he going to answer his questions… truthfully tell him what happened? …Was he doing this simply to anger Harry- or to clue him in on why he desired nothing between them?

Severus took a moment to prepare himself. He'd mentally been over this multiple times the previous night- he knew exactly what he was going to say- but that didn't make it any easier. Still, he owed this to the boy in front of him; retelling a truthful version of the events was difficult for Severus, yes, but he imagined it would be much more vexing having no idea what had happened at all.

"It is widely rumored- no-" Severus corrected the direction he was taking; he'd vowed to himself that he would disallow his personal experience to affect accurateness of the story, and he was already twisting things to make them sound better in his favor. "It is widely known that James Potter and Lily had been married, and that they had been seeing each other since the end of seventh year."

Harry nodded- he himself had given thought to why Lupin and Sirius had told him this, when it now seemed impossibly untrue.

"That is a lie," Severus said plainly, looking at Harry. "Potter always had feelings for your mother, and as most boys do, decided to go about dating her by first becoming her friend. She, of course, believing the best in people, accepted this friendship… but after a short time, he began assuming it something more.

"House rivalry was even more so in my time at Hogwarts than it is now, so your mother and I began seeing each other sometime in our seventh year, but kept it a deep secret. After Hogwarts, we were wed, but still this was known by very few people… and unfortunately, Potter was the first to learn of the engagement and had time to act, in order to save his reputation.

"You see, Potter had bragged to his friends that he and Lily had been an item during seventh year, and they believed it- not without due reason. They had become very close friends, much to my displeasure, and it was not uncommon for them to walk to classes together, she laughing and seemingly flirting the entire duration. I was, of course, incredibly jealous, but could do very little about their friendship. When she told Potter that we were to be married, he wildly invented to his friends that he had broken it off with her for another girl, whom he quickly picked up. He was," Severus stopped, curling his lip and rolling his eyes before he continued, "very popular, and had no problem doing so. She and I married, and Lupin, Black, and Pettigrew believed it a scheme of hers to win James back- they also believed when Potter told them that she was taking advantage of my unhealthy obsession with her. I admit, it wasn't a difficult thing for him to make believable… I wasn't always the most discreet at hiding my jealousy when they were together."

Harry was glaring off to the side. Everything Snape was saying made sense, he had to admit that… but it didn't make him like it any more. Obviously, there was more to this story… something had to have happened that had given his mother reason to hide all of this…

Severus watched Harry for a moment; he couldn't tell if the boy was taking it all in. Nevertheless, he continued. He was having great difficulty concealing the malice in his voice, and was sure he hadn't wholly succeeded in doing so; he hoped that by moving through this more quickly it would evoke less anger inside of him.

"I had, as I'm sure you've learned by now, extensive knowledge of the dark arts… before and after my time at Hogwarts. I now regret so openly parading that fact- but I had been proud of it. I'd been proud to have made something of myself, proud to have an area in which I excelled past the other students. I enjoyed the reputation it earned me. I am attempting to be honest with you in this- I liked the power- and that is what lured me to Voldemort's side.

"Lucius Malfoy had been telling me, for years, that I would be better off on that side. I was unsure… I knew Lily would never willingly follow me there, and though I wondered why at times, I thought perhaps her judgment was simply better than my own. She persisted in her attempts to bring me over to the side of the light, as at that time I was unclaimed by either flank. However, there was little lure in the opportunities Dumbledore allowed her to present to me. He knew of my dark background, and at that time was very wary of allowing me a position I could easily betray.

"The Dark Lord knew my weaknesses. He sent Lucius Malfoy to speak with me again, and I was fed all the right words. He told me that the Dark Lord was on the rise, and would soon be ruling the Wizarding world. He told me of the many things the Dark Lord had accomplished, and the goals towards which he was working. I liked the idea of them, and the lure of recognition and belonging was overwhelming. Lucius knew my one true loyalty was with Lily- and he convinced me that she was in danger, and might be spared if I were to help their side.

"That's why he offered to let her live," Harry said slowly, interrupting Snape. "He promised you that she would be spared, and that's why he offered to let her live."

Severus exhaled and nodded. "Yes, that is why. Lucius insisted that I could keep it from her until the Dark Lord took over, and then she would be happy that I had taken these steps to protect her. I foolishly believed him. I took the Dark Mark, and told Lily I would be away on business for a few weeks, as to allow myself time to heal.

"This is where the plan went terribly wrong. Lily- your mother- came to see me a short time after I'd received my mark… I hadn't become accustomed to hiding it yet, as I was spending most of my time with the Death Eaters or on my own. But she had just learned of her pregnancy…" Severus took another deep breath. "Her pregnancy with you, and couldn't wait to tell me. She came to where she knew I was staying… but before I was enlightened, she saw the mark. I'd reached to pour her a cup of tea, and she saw it… I had no knowledge of this until a few weeks ago, when I first saw her memory in Dumbledore's pensieve.

"Her whole demeanor had rapidly switched from excited and happy to regretful and pleading… she told me she had slept with Potter, and that she was pregnant with his child." Severus stopped, looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. He placed them on the arms of his chair and bracingly continued.

"I am- not proud- of what I did next," his eyes were shut, and he opened them slowly and raised his gaze to Harry's. He saw that the boy was watching him intently, an expression of deep loathing present on his face. "I was furious. The thing I'd always feared would happen- the weakness I had when it came to her and other men, the worries I told myself over and over were ridiculous now seemed quite reasonable- it felt like a stab in the back with the intent to kill. I told her to get out, and she seemed shocked. I don't believe she expected this- she had wanted a way to make sure that if need be, she could have prevented me from wanting to have anything to do with her or the baby. She never expected me to be violent… and it sickens me that I was. I was rough with her- I hurled her to the ground, and then picked her up again and threw her out the door. I don't doubt I scared her… I'd never treated her that way before… she stayed there, crying on my front step until she could stabilize herself…"

Harry was glaring at Snape, shaking his head in disgust. So, they'd been married… and he'd turned on her in an instant… despite her remorse, despite all the facts of her past loyalty, he'd behaved as though she'd been planning it all along. He'd actually harmed her… he said he wasn't proud of what he did. That was an understatement; he should have been downright ashamed.

"She went to Potter- she didn't want me to find out she'd lied, and it was the only way she could see being believable to everyone else. She wanted to protect you- she thought I'd- that I'd come after you, claim custody… I'm not sure. But the man she thought she knew seemed long gone to her- she didn't realize that she'd just confirmed every one of my secret suspicions. She didn't realize that she'd delivered the final blow for the situation I'd been brooding over since the beginning of our relationship. She told Potter what she'd done, and he agreed to go along with the plan, and then she went to Dumbledore.

"She begged him never to tell me. She told him that I'd hurt her, and that she couldn't trust me not to make you suffer for what she'd done. She believed I would be angry with her, no matter what the circumstances… and I admit, I might have been, though I would have been gladder to know she'd never betrayed me.

"I always assumed that you were Potter's child… you can see why I have been less than kind towards you these past five years. You asked me this year why I keep saving you- it's because I've never been able to justify letting you die simply because of what you represented… and I could never bring myself to hate Lily in her entirety. I hated her memory, yes… yet I couldn't help but remember that she had seemed to love me… but I've always rejected that thought… it's still hard not to.

"A short while ago, I saw the two events I've just described to you from Lily's point of view… up to the point where she spoke to Dumbledore. I saw her tell Potter that she'd lied to me, and couldn't go back because she couldn't give her child a life with a Death Eater as a father. She had never slept with him while we were together. I was able to deduce that the only logical person that could be my child was you… and then Dumbledore stepped in. He brought me back to his office from the memory, and when I asked him if you were my son, he couldn't bring himself to admit that he'd kept it from me all these years. He told me I'd killed my child by being so rough with Lily, and that you were in fact the son of James.

"This was a short time before I rescued you from that Death Eater's meeting, and I was still grieving for the news I'd just learned- perhaps that should explain to you my change in behavior at that time. It was during the Death Eater's meeting in which I was punished that I learned a way you might be able to defeat the Dark Lord- but it would require the blood of your father, and for your father to be a Death Eater, branded with the magic of the Dark Lord, the one you were to defeat. I spoke of this to Dumbledore, but said it was no use as Potter was neither alive nor a servant of the Dark Lord… and then I was told. I was angry… I am only now on speaking terms with the Headmaster again. He encouraged me to tell you, saying that you needed a father figure now that Black was gone and that you might not be stable enough to defeat the Dark Lord without that in your life."

Harry scoffed. "And you said you didn't care, am I right?" he asked, forgetting himself.

There was a pause. "No," replied Severus quietly. "I said I didn't wish to use you as a ploy to win against the Dark Lord, and wouldn't attempt a relationship for a reason such as that."

Harry looked up, slightly surprised, and then lowered his gaze again.

Severus went on. "I have not told you for several reasons, some of which I am not sure I should share with you. I will say this: it has taken very much getting used to this idea. But I haven't kept this from you out of spite or resistance to acknowledging you. The portion of my conversation with Professor Dumbledore, which you saw during Occlumency, gave you entirely the wrong idea. I had said that in reference to what he'd just said- we had been arguing about this, and I had pointed out that I barely even knew you. He'd responded saying that I'd known you for the past five years… I was merely pointing out that I have grown to know only the side of you that I have chosen to see, the part of you that I have provoked into being the replica of James Potter… I didn't say that in the best way."

Harry shook his head- he didn't care. He didn't care what Snape had to say… the fact of the matter was, he had avoided telling him, and Harry didn't care why. He had deserved to know… and now, he was dealing with anger at this man for what he had done to his mother. He had treated her with less respect than he treated Harry with- and that was saying a great deal. He had been married to the woman, he was supposed to have given her his undying devotion… and yet it had all disappeared in an instant, and what was more, he'd turned violent. Not only had he spent years upon years tormenting Harry for something he wasn't responsible for, he'd actually physically hurt his mother, and scared her to the point where she was afraid for her child and self. It was disgusting…

"I will answer any questions you have," said Severus, scrutinizing Harry as he spoke. He knew what the boy was feeling towards him right now, but he couldn't let it change his approach… as resentful as Severus was towards Dumbledore, there was no denying that the headmaster knew Harry inside and out. Severus had resolved to take the steps he'd recommended. He might be right, after all, he _had_ predicted this reaction from Harry. "Telling you all of this has been no easy task for me," he admitted. "But I felt you deserved to know… and I know you want little to do with me, but I'm not going to deny you the opportunity to make that decision with due deliberation. I have now given you all the facts, and I ask for only one thing- let me know when you do decide. I don't deserve much from you… but I ask that you'll allow me the consideration of being able to act accordingly. Beyond that, the rest is up to you."

Severus paused, looking uncomfortable about something, and then said slowly, "I know I have treated you… unwell… in the past, and this is the main reason for my hesitation in telling you, as of late. I had been deciding how best to approach you in the time immediately before our last lesson… so you know, I would not have left you in the dark."

Harry glared at him- how dare he choose this time, of all that he could have, to finally be fair? He was admitting he was wrong? Was he actually sitting there, saying he was open to whatever Harry needed from him? Since when did he do this kind of thing? Why now? Now, when Harry most wanted a reason to hate him, to yell at him, to say the million and one things on his mind…

"Is there anything you wish to know beyond what I've told you, at this time?" asked Severus, still watching the boy intently. It was ridiculous how obvious the child made his emotion… Severus didn't need any type of magic to tell what was on his mind.

Harry looked at him for a moment, and then said, "No," rising from his seat. "May I leave?"

Severus resisted the urge to insist he stayed… the boy had done what he'd asked. He'd stayed and heard all Severus had aimed to say, and now the rest truly did lie in the boy's own hands. Severus had no more control over the situation.

"Yes," Severus replied, a bit grudgingly. "You may take the way out that we came.."

Harry nodded and turned to leave. Shortly before he'd reached the door, he heard Snape add from behind him, "If there's anything else you need, you know where you can find me… and you may do so."

xx End Chapter xx

AN: Well, to all of you who prefer longer chapters, you got one- this one was about 15 pages, and my longest yet. I really enjoyed writing this, I hope you enjoyed reading it To let you all know, the next one is shorter, but my outline looks to me as though I'll be writing long chapters for most of the story, because I don't want it at like, 60 chapters when I finish year six.

Thank you soooo much to all my lovely reviewers, you all mean so much to me! The last reviews I had were just wonderful, and I found myself excited for you to read the next chapter because it answers a lot of your questions and comments.

To my beautiful gorgeous betas **Cithara **and **Rlmess**, you are both phenomenal and mean the world to me, you help so much. Thank you!


	21. A Dark Man's Woeful Past

Chapter 21

Author's notes at bottom

xxx

Severus allowed Harry as much time and space as he needed after their talk, approaching him only to inform him that he had one last Occlumency lesson to attend before start of term. Aside from that, the two kept at a far distance from one another- Harry still brooding over all he'd learned, and Severus still suffering immense self-abasement from having to relieve all that had placed him in such negative light.

Not only had it cost Severus much of his pride to tell the boy-who-lived all the mistakes he'd made to create this woeful situation for the both of them, it had resurfaced all his previous feelings of guilt and shame that he had been trying to avoid. Part of him had realized that, though _he_ had been given the grace of feeling at peace with his wife, _she _had still died hating him- fearing him, even. And he deserved that, because the fact of the matter was, it had all been his fault. He had chosen to take the mark. He had treated her in a way that made her too scared to even attempt explaining what had happened. He _had _chased her to James Potter. Dumbledore, Lupin, Black, Pettigrew… they'd all been right. He didn't understand how he couldn't have seen it before.

Severus had no doubt that Harry was still furious with him- and the boy had every reason to be. As annoying as the Harry's complete inadequacy at hiding his emotion was, Severus could hardly hold it against him. It seemed obvious just what he was angry at; Dumbledore and Severus' neglect to tell him of the situation, the way Severus had treated him the past few years, how every aspect of the situation had played out, and how it had been the fault of all but Harry. The boy had everyone to blame- perhaps this was the reason that Harry himself could not really decipher the true object of his anger.

Over the few days of separation from Snape before his next Occlumency session, Harry had been thinking hard about the things he had said. The more thought he'd given to it, the more he had realized that the man had apologized, in certain words, for all he'd done in the past. He hadn't tried to justify the treatment he'd given Harry, but he had explained it in its entirety, and that he had done so spoke immeasurable volumes to Harry. People hardly ever told him the truth about anything, and if they did, it was only because Harry asked them directly, or demanded it. Snape had actually told him everything, even the unwholesome bits of truth that reflected poorly on him, and the fact that he had done so out of _fairness_ to Harry, reflected his unspoken apology. Actions speak louder than words, and they especially did to Harry, who had come to find that many words have the habit of being quite empty.

Harry still held Snape's past actions against him, but he couldn't pretend that this was the reason for his anger. There was the fact that Snape hadn't told him… but he'd redeemed himself on that account. He'd told Harry that he had been planning to tell him, and Harry couldn't see him lying about something like that. Why would he ever lie just for Harry's peace of mind, or so he could win his favor? He wouldn't… there was nothing in it for him. No, Harry had to believe the best of Snape in this case- he had to believe that he'd been taking his time in deciding just how to break the news to him. Harry had to admit, he most likely would have chosen the same path of discretion had he been in the same situation. He couldn't imagine having been the first one to know that Snape was his father, and then having the weighty task of telling the man pressed onto his back. He understood Snape's position… he couldn't blame him for something he would have been guilty of as well.

No- above all, the detail reigning over Harry's anger was the way Snape had treated his mother… and _this_ was why his anger was fading. This was not a sufficiently dependable source to fuel his infuriation; various thoughts and theories weren't enough to allow him to maintain righteous anger. He didn't know enough about the way they had been to stay livid over what had happened between them. He only knew what he'd been told, he only knew what he could guess… and his guesswork was what had him most enraged. He needed to know the facts before he could solidify this resentment… before he could decide where he stood on the issue.

When Harry arrived for his last Occlumency lesson before the start of school, neither he nor Snape spoke to the other. He entered silently and waited as Snape finished moving his furniture out of the way, and then the lesson had commenced. He had found that since the lesson in which he'd secured a method of clearing his mind, it was much easier to do so. Now that he had actually succeeded in it once, he had a better idea of what to do to continue and improve his performance.

At the end of the lesson, Snape moved his furniture back and then turned to Harry. The lesson had been short and sweet, and much to Harry's relief, Snape had made no mention of their current situation. Only once, as they were concluding their meeting, was he given a moment's worry that this luxury was about to end … but Snape only spoke about his expectations for the next lesson.

"Now that you seem to have overcome the basic obstacles of Occlumency, we can move on to the manipulation of thoughts and such…" Snape was saying, and Harry could tell by the all too conversational manner with which he was speaking that he was forcibly avoiding the subject that he'd promised to leave in Harry's hands. It almost made Harry feel a bit guilty, though he couldn't understand why.

"Right," Harry said once Snape had finished. He turned to leave, but as he was walking towards the door, he stopped in his tracks. He had to ask the question that had been lingering on his mind since before the lesson had even started- and only Snape could give him the answer to this one. He closed his eyes in a grimace, and then opening them and trying to erase the anxiety from his face, he turned slowly. He looked at Snape for a moment, who tried to return his gaze with a blank expression, but failed miserably. He looked almost curious- and had Harry been less nervous about the question he was about to ask, he would have picked up on the fact that the man's expression was almost a bit anxious- expectant, even.

"Did you love her?" Harry asked quietly. He wasn't sure if this was a good question to ask, but there was a lot about their relationship that he didn't know, and this was one of the things he'd always wonder about if he didn't get the answer now.

Severus blinked, staring back at Harry. He didn't want to answer this question, not now- it was more of himself than he really cared to share with anybody, especially the boy who now had the power to affect his life in any way he wished. But battling his own apprehension, slowly and in a voice much smaller than he'd intended, he said, "With all my heart."

Harry looked at him for another moment, his gaze fixed on the Potions Master as though to assess the truth of that statement. Seemingly satisfied, he gave Snape a small nod and said, "Good day, Professor," before heading out the door.

Harry was still shaking slightly when he reached the first flight of stairs leading up to the entrance hall. He hadn't been sure how Snape would react to that question- though he had to admit, the man had surprised him. He hadn't expected such a straightforward, such an earnest answer- with an almost heartbroken quality to it. It was surprising, more than anything else, to see him display any type of emotion, and especially one which was so… human.

Just beyond the first corridor leading away from the entrance hall, Harry spotted Dumbledore walking towards him. As they neared each other, Dumbledore gave him a small nod of greeting and a warm smile, continuing on his way. Harry realized as this happened that he must have been on his way to see the Snape, and wondered vaguely if it was unwise to ask him now if he and Harry could talk. After a quick moment of indecision, Harry turned around and called after the headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry shouted, quickening his pace to catch up with him. "Wait-"

Dumbledore turned around and faced Harry, a mildly astonished look on his face. Just as he had felt with Severus, after all that had recently happened, he hadn't expected to be approached by the boy, and hadn't wanted to force him into another conversation.

Harry reached the place where Dumbledore stood, and Dumbledore smiled. "Good afternoon, Harry," he said amiably. "I was just on my way to speak with Professor Snape."

"Yes," Harry said, looking down the hallway behind Dumbledore. "I had guessed as much." He stopped himself, hoping that hadn't sounded as disrespectful to Dumbledore as it had sounded to him. "I was wondering if I could speak with you- I can wait until you've finished, though," he quickly added; he didn't want to seem as though he were demanding the headmaster's time.

"No, no," said Dumbledore, shaking his head and taking up stride in the opposite direction of where he had been heading. Harry walked alongside him. "I'll speak with Professor Snape later. What is it that's on your mind?"

"You want to talk about this here?" Harry asked dubiously, glancing around. He hadn't stopped to consider that Dumbledore didn't know what he wanted to talk about- he was still assuming that the headmaster had a very good idea of the topic at hand.

"Oh, right, right," Dumbledore said absentmindedly. Something seemed just a bit off, though Harry couldn't quite figure what. "Of course- where would you like to go?"

"Oh," Harry said, startled. "Er- your office would be fine."

"Yes, but isn't that such an ordinary place for serious conversation?" Dumbledore pondered, smiling lightly. "I thought perhaps somewhere a bit less business like. I quite like the idea of the Quidditch stands, don't you?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said suddenly, having struck a sudden suspicion; he'd already been abducted from the castle once this year, and he needed a concrete reason to believe this was truly the Headmaster standing in front of him. "I wonder if you could show me again how you produce that message bird- the one you used in fourth year?"

Dumbledore stopped in his tracks, giving Harry a very strange look. It was something of marvel and respect. "You are a very clever boy, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, his eyes twinkling. "You have deduced that that was my Patronus?"

"Well, Hermione told me- I had asked her about it in fifth year, when we were doing our Patronus charms in DA."

Dumbledore smiled and stepped back, and with a small flick of his wand produced the silver bird- a phoenix; Harry could tell now that he was closer and less panicked. Dumbledore watched it flutter away and disappear into the air before returning his fond gaze to Harry. "Always on the alert now, aren't you?" He asked, before resuming his pace.

Harry shrugged- he felt embarrassed now. "Well, you know," he said a bit ashamedly. "I wasn't sure- anyone against me would have the main objective of leading me out of the castle-"

"It's quite alright, Harry, you need not apologize, if that is where you were heading," said Dumbledore dismissively. "You were quite smart in doing that. Now, what do you say? I haven't had a good dose of fresh air in days."

"Yeah," Harry said, smiling. "That sounds nice."

He wasn't so livid with the headmaster anymore- he hadn't been for a while now. He wasn't quite sure why, but he couldn't find it in himself to hold a grudge against him. He still remembered his rage at Dumbledore's actions, but when put in perspective along with all the things he'd learned in the past week, the small spat he'd had to endure on Dumbledore's account was the last thing on his mind. There was hardly anything to do about it, and like Snape, it seemed that old differences had to be pushed aside, if not only for a short time.

Once they were seated in the high rises of the Quidditch stands, Dumbledore turned to Harry and said, "So- am I right in guessing that you wanted to see me about some things you've just learned?"

Harry nodded. "How long have you known?"

Dumbledore sighed, looking at the boy with a mournful expression. He had known this was coming- it had been his reason for suggestion the stands. He'd figured a wide, open area was best for this type of conversation… either one of them might feel like they needed an escape. "I've known since before you were born, Harry," he admitted softly. "I am sorry not to have told you earlier."

"Are you?" asked Harry. It wasn't an accusation; it was an earnest question. "I was wondering whether you were sorry I know now."

Dumbledore frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

"You must have had your reasons for keeping this from me- from both of us- for so long," said Harry. "Snape said that you had only told him after it was absolutely necessary… would you have kept it secret if it hadn't been?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "No," he said, "I would have told him, regardless… I did want to leave it up to him, ultimately. And I did…"

"But why?" Harry asked. "Why now, and not earlier?"

Dumbledore evaluated him for a moment before speaking. "You mean to ask why I kept it from you in the first place."

Harry nodded hesitantly, and Dumbledore could tell that he hadn't wanted to ask that question outright. "I have many reasons…

"I did not trust Professor Snape when he was younger," Dumbledore started, looking out over the grounds. "I knew he came from a dark history- he had a bad home life, and did a poor job of hiding his knowledge of the Dark Arts. When your mother married him, I did not object, but I certainly questioned his motives. I was among those who believed that he had plans to hand her to Lord Voldemort.

"Lily insisted, again and again, that all he needed was a push in the right direction. He had not, at that time, received prodding from either side, and she was convinced within herself that if he were to join the side of the light, he would remain loyal. I still highly doubted this, and so it took a very long time for her to convince me to consider initiating him into the order. Still, I told her that I could not trust him until I had been able to watch him for a period of time… it was at this point that I offered him, through her, the position of Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. He, however, still harbored resentment towards me for the neglect I had treated him with during his school years."

"Neglect?" Harry questioned, brow furrowed.

Dumbledore nodded, a pained expression crossing his face. "I was not attentive- and I should have looked into his family situation when I saw all the signs of an unhappy home life in his behavior at school. Perhaps if I had… things might be different." Dumbledore paused before saying quietly, "His mother went missing during his fifth year- he confessed to me later in his teaching career that his father had been the last person he'd seen her with."

"What happened to her?" Harry asked, his attention fully focused on Dumbledore. He had never known this- had never even considered anything of this extent. He had known, after fifth year, that Snape had lived with a less than warm-hearted father, and that his mother had seemed afraid of him, but Harry had never dared to imagine anything this horrific having taken place.

"We don't know," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "Severus would not speak of it until his father had died; I believe he had been scared into keeping it a secret. His father threatened him, saying that if he ever told anyone what had happened, he would be left alone, with no parents… and he said a great deal of horrible things that made Severus believe that he would be treated very badly once his father was gone."

Harry was watching Dumbledore intently, his eyes widened in his frown. "But what was it that he was being forced to keep quiet about?"

Dumbledore hesitated, and then said in a voice barely above a whisper, "He watched his father drag his mother from the room… the last thing he remembers about that night was his father's yelling and his mother's cries… and then silence. He never saw her again."

Harry could not suppress a shudder at the horrific scene that had just been described to him. It really was horrible… it was awful…

"It was my fault," Dumbledore said, his voice now a bit louder, and somewhat ireful. "Just before Christmas holidays, James and Sirius had invented some story about Severus- I hardly even remember what it was now- and told it to me. It had been their plan for revenge; he'd caused them to be caught cheating on a test the previous week, and they had received zero's because of this. I had written a note home to his parents about his bad behavior- and they had written back, thanking me and asking to send him home for Christmas. Apparently, Severus' father had been furious, and Severus' mother had, in a moment of appalled anger at the way he was… dealing… with Severus, shouted some very nasty insults at him. Finally fed up with her, he'd finished with his son and then dragged her from the room… no one ever even reported her missing until his death several years later."

"She was never found?" Harry croaked, his throat sore from the suppressed emotion rising in it.

Dumbledore shook his head. "No- and Severus never really got over the fact that I had written the letter which caused that. He held it against me, and rightfully so, for a long time- though I think his grief was too much to bear, and as a result, he buried all emotion he felt, thus resulting in his ability to hide all he's feeling at most times. I never heard about this until very late… which is a pity, as we may have been able to do something to save her.

"This was the reason he never came over to our side- he was happy where he was, standing in neutral territory, and didn't realize that the offer I gave him was being extended in attempt to evaluate him for the Order. He turned it down, and before Lily could convince me to act with more confidence in him, he had received his dark mark.

"Severus has explained to you, I believe, what happened at this time." At this, Dumbledore paused to wait for Harry's nod of affirmation, before continuing. "When Lily came to see me, she not only made me promise to keep this a secret, but she also beseeched me to bring him to the side of good if it was within my power. I don't know why, but I felt that this was a necessary request to fill. When he came to me, bearing news of Voldemort's plans for the Potters, I immediately brought him into my service, promising him protection if he needed it. He again turned down the teaching position as it would now put him at risk, but pledged loyalty to me. Shortly after, Voldemort was attempting to put a spy into my midst, and Severus took the job. He came back to me, and I hired him as Potions Master.

"Now, you wonder why after this I did not tell him so that he could immediately rescue you from the Dursleys. There is a very simple explanation- I still did not trust him completely, and I still believed him to be every bit of the dark, bitter, vengeful man he presents to the rest of the world. I knew little about him, and was still loyal to Lily's request to keep it secret.

"It took a long time for him to open up to me, but when he finally did, I began to see that there was a very different man inside than I had expected. I then considered telling him- but it was apparent that he still held grudges towards your parents, and you were safe where you were. It would have caused great difficulty to come and get you, and ensure that he was treating you well. You were still young, and not as able to take care of yourself. I couldn't risk a little child's happiness like that, and though I knew you were unhappy with the Dursleys, I feared that cruelty would be far more detrimental coming from your father. I hoped that you would come to Hogwarts soon, and then I could slowly introduce the two of you and lead you into the relationship.

"Immediately after you had arrived, however, it was clear to me that neither one of you could get along… and several instances which reinforced this point were enough to convince me that Lily had been right to request that neither of you ever found out.

"I've watched you two every year, hoping that at some point the opportunity to tell both of you would present itself. It never did, and after a while, I pushed the idea of bonding between the two of you to the back of my mind. I didn't think it possible, and saw no point in giving you a reason to have more contact than was already necessary.

"I have realized, however, that you are in need of some sort of guardian in your life. As you've grown, you've proved to be an extraordinary young man- but after third year, after you began to realize what being the boy-who-lived means, it was obvious that you needed that person in your life- one who would make you feel protected and loved. After your loss this previous year, I've begun to worry that things would become much more difficult for you, not having someone to whom you can go.

"I, of course, would be more than happy to take that position in your life… but you had avoided coming to me for advice in the past, and instead sought it from your Godfather. I wasn't sure that would change. I began thinking that now was the time… though the animosity between you two had reached it's greatest point, it was unthinkable that both of you should die without knowing the truth, and the mutual loathing between you has only grown every year since your arrival at Hogwarts. I thought it would be- ill-advisable- to allow this to continue, and have been planning to tell one of you since early this summer.

"I believe Severus has told you the rest of the story. I will just finish now by saying that I am exceedingly sorry, child. He made a valid point- this wasn't my choice to make. I'm sorry that I didn't see differently earlier."

Harry was sitting with his chin atop his knuckles, staring off into the distance. "No," he said distantly. "I understand why you did this- and I don't really blame you for it."

Dumbledore frowned. "You sound a bit bitter, though."

Harry lifted his head. Dumbledore was right- he did sound bitter, and for good reason; he was. He had a dark feeling that was burrowing deep within him, and he felt angry and resentful. At what, however, he couldn't quite understand.

"With whom does you infuriation lie?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"I'm not sure," said Harry slowly, turning his head and bringing his eyes to meet with the headmaster's. "I've had this horrible, piercing, embittered feeling rising within for a long time- ever since I found out, and probably for a while before. I can't understand it- I've accepted every one of the problems that have sprung to mind as the source of these feelings… I'm over them, really… they might cause a little bit of annoyance, but I know that none of them are the reason I'm feeling this way. Part of me wonders if I'm just all around angry at the situation… maybe I'm just angry at not knowing what I want."

Dumbledore was holding his gaze with his piercing blue one of compassion. "And what options are you choosing from?" Harry gave him a questioning look, and Dumbledore elaborated. "Do you really think you can go without ever knowing your father? Do you think you can live with this, and ignore it? Goodness, Harry, not even he has been able to- and he's better at burying emotion more than anyone I know. I am not saying this as a slight, but you allow your feelings to sit on the surface, and you have so much passion that you can't let them go. I think it would destroy you if you were to attempt avoiding all of this- because I know once you make the decision and tell him you want nothing to do with him, you'll regret it, but won't go back.

"I have removed myself from this situation. I am here to talk if you want to, but I have made a promise to myself and to your father that I will no longer push either one of you. I will offer you this one last piece of advice, and then consider me forever impartial. Get to know your father, and do it before it is too late. It means a lot, more than you could ever realize, that he approached you. It will be hard- you two have very much history to overcome- but in the end, I think you will be glad you've tried."

"Do you think he wants anything to do with me?" Harry asked, sounding much more childish than he'd wanted to.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, placing his hands upon the boy's shoulders, "He would be a fool not to… and your father is no fool."

xxx- End Chapter 21-xxx

**AN**:

A huge thanks to my wonderful betas, **Cithara **and **Rlmess**, I could never go on without them.

Please give me constructive criticism if you have any, it would be a huge help to know what you think. Thank you so much!


	22. Can I Do It?

Chapter 22

Can I do it?

xxx

It was late that night when Harry finally returned to his dorm. He and Dumbledore had taken a long time getting up to the castle, and though their entire trip had been in silence, Dumbledore had seemed to understand that Harry was busy pondering all he'd just been told.

It was immensely difficult for Harry to digest all of the information he'd absorbed in the past week. How was he supposed to feel about Snape now? Now, when he knew both sides of the story, and wasn't decided on either one? He hated Snape for all he'd done to him in the past, for who he was, for what he'd done to his mother… and yet, now he understood why- he could hardly avoid his feelings of sympathy towards the man; he could hardly avoid the fact that Snape deserved them.

Harry had never believed he could actually pity Snape. True, during fifth year he had given the man's sorrowful position some thought- but the things Harry had seen had been more… _appalling_ to him, rather than conjuring the feelings of sympathy, and almost admiration, which Harry was having difficulty ignoring now.

Harry knew that he was beginning to, in a sense, forgive Snape. And yet, he didn't want to. Everything inside of him, all those annoying little voices in the back of his head, were screaming at him to push the concepts of forgiveness and acceptance from his mind… and yet he couldn't quite propel the notion from his thoughts.

Snape hadn't simply hated Harry because of who his father was- he hated what Harry represented. To Snape, Harry was the very embodiment of everything that had gone wrong in his life. He was the symbol of Lily's betrayal, he was the very image of James Potter, with the same talents, looks, and apparent arrogance, and he received praise and attention for enduring hardships that paled by comparison to Snape's. The man had endured inward suffering for years, and Harry wore it all on the outside, and was, in Snape's view, supported by an entire collection of friends and family for it. Harry had gained everything that he had- his fame and the benefits of it because of his pain- Snape had gained nothing. His jealousy- resentment- bitterness- was understandable.

Perhaps Snape deserved a second chance… but did he truly want it? Was he actually hoping that Harry would come to him? Was that even possible?

And could Harry do it? This was the question annoyingly repeating inside Harry's mind; through all of his thoughts and feelings it was conveyed. He didn't know what to think about it all, and every time he seemed to come up with an option, it was countered by the annoying thought of _could he do it?_

Harry sank down onto his bed, head falling to his hands as he rubbed his temples in attempt to release the throbbing pain within. He heard Hedwig clucking softly at him from across the room and looked up at her sideways through his fingers, and she seemed to take this as a cue of welcome. She gracefully fluttered over to him, dropping a letter in his lap and landing on his shoulder with a playful nip at his ear. He reached up to give her a gentle stroke, offering a weak smile that he knew she couldn't comprehend and then reaching down for the letter she'd just brought him. He ran his finger through the crevice of the envelope and ripped it open, pulling out the parchment it contained. He brightened slightly as he realized it was from Lupin, and his eyes scanned the contents of the letter before reading it thoroughly. It was asking him about his O.W.L.s.

_Dear Harry, _

_I am terribly sorry not to have written sooner, and can only offer the excuse that I have been horribly busy. It has been very difficult to find the time for the basic activities of my everyday life, much less to sit and write letters, and realize when certain ones are due._

_How have you been? I understand that there was a minor fiasco earlier this summer that involved Professor Snape, though I'm assured that it was all smoothed over. I trust that you two have worked everything out, am I right? Well, that's hardly the point of this letter. How did your O.W.L.s come out? Are you still considering a career path as an auror? Sometimes I wonder, Harry, if you'll still want to do that when school is all over. If you could see the way the aurors here are constantly running around in a panic, you might rethink your choice. I say this with fondness, of course; it is a worthy profession, and you of all people could handle it. _

_I will be seeing you a bit more this year, with some luck. The ministry has insisted that extra help be brought in to revamp the wards every so often, and Dumbledore is having difficulty with the idea of leaving Hogwarts for long periods of time without Order members he trusts, there in his stead. Hopefully I'll be asked there. _

_You should probably know that I was offered the Defense against the Dark Arts position for this year, but turned it down. I thought you might prefer to hear it from me than someone else, and I should explain. I hope you won't feel guilty for my not coming; knowing you, Harry, you would believe me to be angry with you for what happened at the ministry. But if you have jumped to that conclusion, I am telling you right now that I, in no way, shape, or form, blame you for what happened. Sirius went there by choice, as I hope you realize now. Know that I am here if you have anything you with to talk about, and by all means, welcome your contact. I turned down the position with great regret, in fact, that I would not be seeing you. But I can hardly be of use to the Order from inside the school. Moody will be taking the position instead, and I have hopes that his reputation will serve as something of a ward in itself._

_I hope you are not upset that I have taken so long in writing, and I do assure you that my response to your next letter will be much swifter. _

_Write back soon, _

_Remus J. Lupin _

Harry frowned as he refolded the letter and set it aside. Lupin. He hadn't given any consideration to _his_ reaction to Snape being Harry's father, and magnanimous as he was, part of Harry couldn't help but wonder whether he would still look at Harry the same way, knowing he was not the son of James Potter.

But then, there was the fact that Lupin had known about Snape and Lily. It was likely that he'd had his suspicions, but according to Snape, James had found a way around every one of the prospects that Lily was anything but his, and Lupin would have pushed any doubts as to Harry's true parentage to the back of his mind. It would come as quite a shock to him, of this Harry could be sure.

With a sinking feeling, Harry concluded that he would have to tell him… but maybe not just yet. Not when he was so unsure of what he himself wanted out of the situation.

But _what did he want_? Why couldn't he figure this out? If he had been faced with this decision several years ago… without any knowledge of what Snape's life had been like, and with Sirius still in his life, there was no doubt that his choice would have been more easily made. Now, he knew what he wanted to do- his mind kept telling him to ignore all that he'd learned, that Snape didn't deserve compassion… but he wasn't sure if he did feel that way.

What if he never _would have_ felt that way? Come to think of it, Harry realized how very lonely he'd been all his life… come to think of it… Harry would have welcomed anyone willing to play the role of father in his life, and would have been overjoyed to have a _true_ family member to take that place. And part of him still felt that way… part of him still wondered if it wouldn't be worth it, getting to know Snape… maybe…

He was so torn; he had dreamed of having a family since his days as a small child, and yet, time and time, he'd sworn hatred against the malevolent Potions Master. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't explained everything, offering some sort of silent truce. It would have been so much easier if Dumbledore hadn't told him the long story of Snape's painful past, which made it difficult to bear the idea of hurting the man anymore. It would have been so much easier if Snape hadn't loved his mother… it would have been easier, but it wasn't. Harry was being tormented by his past grievances with the man, and yet he couldn't help but feel that the rest of the circumstances overshadowed those said injustices.

Maybe Snape _did _deserve a chance… but could Harry give it to him?

Could Harry ever answer that question?

xxx

It wasn't until the next morning, on the way down to the Great Hall, when Harry's head had cleared that he realized how very like his father he was beginning to think. He had never thought of forgiveness as something one must earn- and yet, here he was, contemplating whether or not to make a man suffer for his past wrongdoings, despite his present regret; battling his will to allow him clemency. It wasn't right… it wasn't like him… and did he really want to end up like Snape?

"Potter!" called a crisp, tense voice from inside the doors of the great hall, giving Harry a start. Harry looked up to see McGonagall standing there, beckoning impatiently for him to come.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, walking towards her. He hoped she would provide some sort of distraction from his thoughts… he had a feeling he had been contemplating them for far too long.

"We're preparing the school for tonight's arrivals," McGonagall said, turning and heading towards the staff table, where several other teachers were going over lists of tasks and delegating them accordingly. "I thought perhaps it would be good for you to engage in something productive and help us decorate the Great Hall."

"Decorate?" Harry asked, looking around. This seemed so unlike his strict, no nonsense Professor, asking him to decorate. He couldn't recall there being festive décor in the prior years of his coming there.

"Yes, Potter, decorate," Professor McGonagall said, looking up at him over the parchment she had been scanning. "The tables need to be set with the cloths, the House crests and flags must be strung. Professor Snape is already taking care of the staff table and Slytherin apparel, while Flitwick assists him and does the Ravenclaw. You are here to put up Gryffindor representation; I have a fair few things to do, and can hardly find the time…"

Harry hadn't realized his eyes were widened, but quickly remedied this as he did. "Right," he said faintly, shaking his head. "Well, perhaps I could do something else for you? I would hate to make a mess of something which will be so public-"

"If it's Professor Snape you're worrying about," McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows, "I'm going to tell you once and for all to move past it. He is your Professor, and at your age you should realize you must treat him with respect even if the two of you can't see eye to eye."

"Well, I know that…" Harry grumbled. He could hardly explain the different reasons for his unease. It was too personal, and McGonagall, though a great teacher, didn't seem like the kind of understanding one who would react to the news tactfully.

McGonagall gave a small nod. "Good," she said. "You may ask one of your Professors for help- they'll show you how to arrange it all." She picked up the clipboard sitting behind her on the table. "Thank you, Potter," she said with another look at Harry. She then left the hall, looking quite anxious about her small amount of time to finish everything necessary for the start of term.

Harry watched her leave, daring not to turn around. He could almost feel black eyes boring into his back- he knew Snape was standing there. He was getting used to the fact that he seemed to pop up at the most inopportune moments, unnoticed and quiet until he wished to be otherwise. Harry stayed frozen for half a minute; he expected Snape to say something. He didn't quite know what, but it just seemed that he would have some comment to make… and yet, as moments passed, no sound came from behind him. Snape was choosing to remain silent.

Harry turned around almost mechanically; his unease was blatantly obvious. Snape quickly turned his eyes to the table in front of him, making what Harry could tell was quite a show of fixing the black velvet tablecloth draped across it.

Severus smoothed out the cloth on the table, his eyes closed in a wince that he hoped Harry wasn't noticing. He couldn't explain the strange feeling he'd felt when Harry had turned and caught him watching - it had never used to bother him. In fact, he had used to enjoy the visible anxiety it caused Harry; he had relished the fact that his very gaze made the boy quell with fear. Now, however, he wondered whether this was a good thing… no… he knew it wasn't a good thing. This was his son, and to be in the same room with him made the boy uncomfortable- scared, even. He wasn't sure why this bothered him so much… perhaps because it was a painful reminder of the fact that Lily had felt the same way.

Harry quietly inspected the man before him. His face was devoid of the malice and darkness it usually portrayed. His expression reflected something deeper, something more meaningful- humanity. As simple as the trace of pain and worry on Snape's face was, it brought out the man hidden behind the stone façade. And despite all of Harry's previous thoughts- all his feelings of hate, anger, bitterness and betrayal, he found a dull ache within him that was undeniably a yearning for… well, it was a yearning, but for what Harry had no idea.

Severus opened his eyes, and lifted his brows from the pained grimace they had been furrowed in. He looked up at the boy, and was not surprised to find that his startlingly green gaze was fixed intently upon him. And yet, though he knew what was lingering on the boy's mind, though he knew now was the most opportune time of all to speak to him, the promise he'd made to leave it up to Harry would not leave the premises of his thoughts. He cast around for something to say- anything which would stop him from continuing in the reflection of his own thoughts, something to make it apparent that he was not ignoring Harry, but rather holding true to his vow.

"The Gryffindor banners are lying over there," Severus said mildly, after a moment. He was careful to keep his voice casual- a subtle acknowledgement of their changed situation, and yet on the passive side, not steering the conversation. "It's really very simple to do-"

He turned to the Slytherin table, where the banners were already neatly laid down the length of it, and gave his wand a small flick at each one. They lined up in a row along the ceiling, and Severus turned back to Harry.

"We've been doing this for years- they just require the flick of the wand. They do the rest on their own."

"Hmm," Harry murmured, turning towards the Gryffindor table and beginning to align the banners as they would be positioned on the ceiling. He was relieved that Snape had set the atmosphere at a more comfortable level. "If it's such a simple task, then why am I needed to do it?"

"Well, there are other things to be tended to," Severus said, raising his eyebrow and barely resisting a sneer. "Do you really think yourself so above everyone else that you should be allowed to laze about the castle while the rest prepare for-"

"I wasn't complaining," Harry said in a loud, firm voice, turning and staring at the Potions Master with something of warning in his intense gaze. "I was just wondering why I'd be asked to do such simple tasks when there are other things that I could be of more help doing. You always jump to the worst conclusion about me." Harry turned back to the banners he was straightening, with a noticeable jerk now present in his motions.

Severus was slightly taken aback at Harry's tone with him. It had seemed older, more rational and mature than the way the boy normally spoke to him. He hadn't shouted, but he'd put his point across. Severus would not have expected this kind of change without a loss of what would seem like all emotion, and yet the boy's anger was obvious in the way he went about his job with hard, jagged motions. No- the difference in Harry now seemed to be tolerance… he was _tolerating_ Severus… and _that_ was a surprise exceptional to all others.

"I'm-" Severus stopped, his mouth open, trying to form the words. Harry turned around and looked at him in question.

"You're what?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

Severus raised his eyebrow, and for a fleeting moment, he was reminded distinctly of Lily. Harry was standing there, in an angry position with a fierce look on his face, and yet there was no true loathing in his expression- only strength. It took Severus a moment to realize he was actually admiring his… his son. It took him another moment to regain his composure as he remembered their conversation.

"I'm sorry," Severus said grudgingly, averting his eyes and allowing his arms to fall against his sides.

"You're… sorry," Harry repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes.

Severus furrowed his brows in frustration. "_Yes_, I am sorry, and you are right," he said testily, rolling his eyes. "Must I spell it out for you?"

Harry frowned, once again examining the man.

"What do you want from all of this?" Harry asked quietly, resting one hand on the table behind him for support and watching his father closely.

Severus stayed silent for a moment, contemplating his response. Finally, he settled on the very conclusion he and Dumbledore had come up with in his office.

"I don't want to wonder _what if_," he said quietly, nodding as though to reassure himself of his answer. "And I don't think you do either."

Harry stared at Snape, only blinking. Was Snape right? Did Harry really want to spend the rest of his life wondering what would have happened if he'd made the harder choice? Was there a chance that this could turn out for the better, instead of the worst?

"And if I tell you I want to try this," Harry said, "you're not going to back out? You're one hundred percent positive that you can handle my decision?"

"If I wasn't," said Severus with a slightly coy smirk, "Do you really think I would have placed the choice in the hands of an imbecile like yourself?"

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. He was torn between a smile and a frown, and the result was an awkward mix of the two. Snape raised his eyebrows, as if to say, "Good point, yes?" and then looked up at something, his expression instantly changing. Harry looked at him for another moment, and then, following his gaze he turned to see a large group of people heading towards the doors to the hall. They were his friends: Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.

He looked back around at Snape, who gave him a curt nod and swept away. Harry's stomach sank slightly; he had almost been hoping that he and Snape could have reached some sort of agreement right then. At least it would feel a bit more mutual, not like his deciding what to do and then running off to inform Snape of his plan.

He could hear them entering the hall now, so with some effort, he forced a smile onto his face as he turned to greet them.

"What are you all doing here?" Harry asked in a half laugh, heading towards them with a big smile on his face.

"Mum didn't feel _comfortable_ with us taking the train," Ginny said, her voice tinged with annoyance. "So she and Dad arranged to have us travel here by Floo Powder."

"How's your summer been wasting away here, then, mate?" asked Ron, sliding himself onto the top of the Hufflepuff table. "Find enough to occupy yourself?"

"Little do you know," Harry mumbled, rolling his eyes. "But it's so good to see you all again. I'm sure I'd have gone mad if I'd had to endure one more week with no more than the professors as company." He smiled. "Not to say that I'm ungrateful, of course," he added.

"Well," said Hermione, "I would have been pleased to spend a few weeks here, with the library all to myself and no one to disturb me."

"Of course _you_ would, Hermione," Ron said, raising his eyebrows. "You've got nothing better to do."

"Oh, and I suppose obsessing over the three-point difference in the latest Cannons game is a much more worthwhile task!" Hermione huffed, wrinkling her nose.

Ron glared at her. "It was a _big deal_," he said slowly, as though spelling it out. "That game was the deciding factor on whether or not they made it to regionals."

"And they didn't, Ron," Ginny said, sounding very bored, as if they'd already been over this a million times. "So get over it, for all our sakes."

Ron glowered even more petulantly and crossed his arms, but said nothing.

Ginny looked at him for a moment, apparently deciding whether or not to say what she was thinking. Seemingly deciding against it, she turned back to Harry. "Well," she said, smirking, "you haven't missed much."

Harry couldn't resist a laugh. He only wished he could say the same to her. Steering the conversation away from the topic of summer happenings, he cast around for a different subject.

"So, is there another prefect in the Weasley family this year?"

Ginny smiled proudly and shook her head. "No," she declared firmly, a bright smile spread across her face. "No, there is not. And thank Merlin, too; as if I needed another thing in common with her wonderful boys. I think sometimes she needs a reminder that I'm not one of them, and nor do I intend to follow in their footsteps."

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed indignantly, "Our footsteps aren't the worst ones to put your feet into."

Ginny turned her head towards him and said, "Yeah, they aren't the best, either."

Hermione smiled at that. "Well said, Ginny," she said, glancing at Ron who was rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at Harry. "We should get our things out of the entrance hall and up to Gryffindor Tower before McGonagall notices them."

"Hermione," Ron said earnestly, getting off his table. "The house elves will take care of them-"

"They've enough to be getting on with," she said irrefutably, heading towards the doors. "We can do this ourselves."

Ron looked hopelessly at the other two, who shook their heads before following at her heels.

xxx

Shortly before the Hogwarts express was due to pull in, the four Gryffindors were escorted by Filch to the school carriages that were waiting at the gates. In order to avoid attracting unnecessary attention to the fact that the four were at the school before anyone else, therefore indicating that they had reason for such, their arrivals were to be staged as ordinary as everyone else's.

Soon the rest of the student body had arrived, and they were set in motion, being pulled up to the castle. It was a cool night, but not necessarily a clear one. The clouds filled the sky in a sort of haze that gave a certain depressive air to the atmosphere, and the tepid drafts of wind kept the surrounding trees swaying in a rhythmic, dreary manner. Harry gazed out the window all the while, thinking of what it would be like to have someone to say goodbye to on the train station platform. He'd had the Weasleys, yes, but they were never _his_… they were family, but not _his_.

It occurred to him, very suddenly, that he was fulfilling some sort of unofficial prophecy. Snape's words echoed through his mind… _I don't want to wonder what if… and I don't think you do, either_… and here he was, wondering that very thing.

Once they were all ushered into the great hall, the enthusiastic greetings began. As Harry watched girls run up to each other, giggling excitedly and exchanging hugs, and boys striding towards their fellow house members and giving them hearty claps on the back, he began to get that dull feeling of dread he had every year. His greetings were hardly those of old friends and housemates, but rather, an excited, or anxious, clamor to meet the famous "Harry Potter." Again, he would have to endure the awed looks of the tiny first-years as they realized who he was. Again, he would have to silently ignore the whispers that were so carelessly concealed as he walked past those who had read the latest article in _The Daily Prophet_. And though he had been through this time and time again, this year was different. This year, he knew someone else would be watching all of this going on… someone who would develop opinions based upon them; they were opinions, which, for some reason, Harry now cared about.

"Harry!" called a familiar voice. Harry turned to see Neville Longbottom trying desperately to push his way through the crowd to join them.

"Hey, Neville!" Harry called out, giving him a wave. This seemed to catch Ron's attention, who had been at his side, talking with a smug expression as he answered Dean Thomas's inquiry about his trying out for Quidditch. Ron turned and smiled, joining Harry in meeting Neville, and they followed Hermione and Ginny into the Great Hall, which was already milling with students.

Finding an empty section at the Gryffindor table, the five sat down.

"Honestly, so overprotective," Hermione was saying to Ginny as they sat down across from the three boys.

Harry looked up in vague interest. "Who is?"

"My mum and dad," said Hermione, turning her eyes to him. "The owl delivering _The Daily Prophet_ to me this summer came to the kitchen window, as opposed to mine, one morning, and apparently they couldn't resist reading the head caption,_ Are Death, Destruction, and Doom Impending?_" She shook her head.

"Curiosity killed the cat," Ginny mumbled.

"No joke," Hermione agreed. "That's why I said that about the library earlier. They wouldn't let me out of the house all summer. I was never more pleased than when Ron's letter arrived…" and a look of apprehension flitted across her face as she fell silent. Harry could only guess, with a certain amount of guilt, that she was remembering the way he'd reacted to the two of them being together the previous summer while he had been kept locked away in his aunt and uncle's home.

"It's a whole load of bull, anyways," Ginny said indifferently. "The Ministry just prints the headlines that will sway the people in the most convenient direction. Right now, they want to scare them into submission. They want the public to believe that death is at their very doorsteps, and the only thing protecting them is the Ministry. They probably think it'll make them revered, more respected in the public eye."

Harry frowned. "But by scaring people into thinking that, they're giving Voldemort the advantage. That's what he feeds off of, fear."

Hermione looked across the table with a grim expression. "Why do you think he ever rose to the top in the first place?"

Beside him, Neville nodded. "Because the world was full of gullible people who started believing they had no reason to fight. I've always been taught that no matter how poor your skill is, it should still be invested in the most worthy cause. People stopped caring what the cause was."

"There are never enough of the smart ones," Ron said quietly. "Never enough of those who know what it is they're fighting for, and why they have to do it."

"And the ones doing it are too busy or have given up too much respect by carrying out the necessary tasks, leaving only the idiots who know no different in power," said Hermione. Everyone looked up at her, surprised at her dark tone. She noticed, and shrugged. "I've had a lot of time to think, remember? I haven't been able to go anywhere, so naturally, the first thing I thought about was the reason why… and I arrived at the conclusion that the Ministry is a useless lump of people, which serves no other purpose than to content the Wizarding world, and at the same time, ruin it."

"The end," Ginny added promptly. Everyone shared a short laugh, and Ginny smiled, pleased with herself in lightening the mood just a bit.

And though there had been no deep conversations of huge emotional magnitude, no sudden revelations to strike Harry, no nerves touched, he couldn't help but spend the entire Sorting Hat's song and Dumbledore's speech thinking about what to do with the issue of his father. He had to talk to him… but he couldn't drag himself down to Snape's office, and he knew that. He knew he would end up turning back, or saying something completely different than he had planned. Snape did that to him… or at least, he had in the past. His eyes flickered up to the staff table, desperate and sad, and he saw that Snape was watching him as well. But this time, neither man looked away. Their eyes held contact for just a brief moment, and Harry hoped in that instant that perhaps Snape was reading the look on his face… perhaps he would know that Harry wanted to talk to him, and… but no; Snape was never that intuitive. The only emotions he usually noticed were guilt, fear, and arrogance. Even if he understood how Harry felt, he wouldn't act on it. The hall broke into applause as hat declared, "Ravenclaw!" and both their gazes fell.

Severus sat at the head table, watching intently the range of emotions sliding on and off Harry's face. It almost seemed as if he were asking something of him… was it that he was finally ready to tell Severus his decision? Was he too afraid to approach him on his own? Perhaps he ought seek him out, question him about his thoughts… but no, if he were wrong, he would only be breaking his own promise to leave the situation in Harry's hands. Then again, it would be so like Harry to resent him for not taking action. Somehow, their lack of confrontation would eventually be twisted into the fault of Severus'. If he was right, maybe this was a good opportunity to work on his ways of dealing with the child, and show Harry that he was doing his best.

And yet, he wasn't doing his best. He had no special connection to the boy, and for some reason, he still saw him as "Harry Potter," every time he looked at him. It was such an awkward situation… out of duty to his wife, and a small desire to know his son, he was going to have to attempt to make amends with Harry… no matter how difficult.

The food was served, and Severus noticed that Harry avoided his gaze for the rest of the meal, keeping his eyes fixed intently on the plate in front of him, or occupying himself with unenthused conversation with his friends. Severus waited until he'd seemingly eaten to his full, and then rose from his own seat, dismissing himself from the staff table.

The walk to Gryffindor table seemed such a long one, and Severus had to repress a flicker of annoyance at his own unease. Here he was, a grown man nearing forty, and his heart was beating out of his chest from apprehension about approaching a sixteen-year-old boy. He'd stood in the Dark Lord's presence and felt little more than anxiety in the worst of times, and this young Gryffindor had his stomach tied in knots of doubt and hesitation.

Neville was the first to notice Snape coming towards the table, and he immediately let out a small squeak and elbowed Harry in the side. Harry looked at his friend, and Neville shifted his eyes towards Snape, who had now come to a halt in front of the Gryffindor table, and was glaring darkly at the children before him.

Harry looked up at him, dropping his fork to his plate, and waited.

"Potter," Severus said in a low voice. He did not nod or give any perceptible sign of change in his demeanor, but the lack of malice in his voice was enough to tell Harry he wasn't in trouble.

"Sir," Harry responded, trying to ignore the questioning looks on his friends' faces.

"You and I need to speak about remedial potions," Severus said, and Harry knew, with instant relief, that Snape had picked up on his desire to speak with him. Severus clenched his teeth, his face full of annoyance as he said, "Unsurprisingly, your Head of House has come to your rescue once again, and so I must _request_ that you come to my office at this time. Of course, if you cannot sacrifice a meal for this, as she seems so worried about, I have another free block of time during your Quidditch tryouts. I'm sure," he sneered, "That your position on the team has been secured, regardless of how unworthy you may become of it."

Harry looked at him for a moment, rose from the table, dropping his napkin atop his plate. "Now would be fine," he mumbled, following his Professor out of the hall.

They had come to the corridor leading to Snape's office, and Harry was quite sure they were alone now.

"You knew," Harry said quietly, looking up at the Potions Master.

Severus stopped outside his door and looked at Harry. "I knew what, Potter?"

Harry looked up at him, a mildly surprised expression on his face, and then looked away. _Did_ he know? Had Harry just made a fool of himself, and would he worsen it by elaborating?

Seeing the worried expression on the teenager's face, Severus sighed and allowed his hard expression to relent. "That you wanted to speak with me?" Harry looked back to him, nodding. "Yes, I knew," he said, opening his door.

Harry exhaled lightly and followed Snape into the office, shutting the door behind him. Snape did not sit, but rather, walked about halfway into the room and then turned to face his son.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, almost impressedly.

"I can read minds, remember?" Severus said with an ironic smirk. Harry smiled. Then Severus shook his head. "No, it wasn't difficult to figure out; you're not so hard to understand."

Harry gave him an odd look, and then said, "You're the first person to say that."

The things said which carry the most significance are often the things that are most difficult to analyze the importance of. For Severus, this was one of those moments. He didn't know why those words had such an impact on either one of them, but they did. In some way, both parties realized that it was some form of thank you, some kind of gratefulness.

"Ahh," Severus said in a sort of shocked acknowledgement, raising his eyebrows… for he didn't know what else to say.

xxx end chapter xxx


	23. Some Sort of Understanding

Chapter 23

Some Sort of Understanding

xxx

"I've been thinking a lot about all of this," Harry said, moving around the edge of the room as he spoke. "I'd be lying if I said a lot of really dark thoughts haven't been through my head in the process. But it turns out you were right…" He turned and looked at Snape for a moment, and said, "I don't want to wonder what if."

Severus looked at him for a moment. He didn't know what to do with this; all of a sudden, the boy was opening up to him. He wasn't pouring his heart out, no, but it was a step. What was Severus supposed to do? Was the boy expecting some sort of wonderful father, a happy family? The home Severus had grown up in was little of an example- could he possibly give Harry something better? "You realize," he said, "that I have no idea what I'm doing."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I realize that," he said, and the corners of Snape's mouth twitched, as though he too understood the irony of the statement.

"And you understand," Severus continued, "how hard old habits are to break. I can't promise you that my effort to change will always be evident… but I can promise you that it will be there."

"So I'll just have to take your word for it?" Harry said slowly, studying Snape carefully. In all truth, he wasn't sure how he would be able to do this. He wasn't sure if he would be able to simply tolerate the old Snape… but then, something did seem different now. Maybe it was because of his newfound understanding… or maybe not.

"Yes," said Severus very seriously. "And you'll have to tell me when I'm not doing things right, because I won't know."

"And you're not going to get angry with me for that?" Harry asked doubtfully. Somehow, he couldn't picture him telling Snape that he was being a bad father and having the man simply accept it.

"I might," said Severus. "But since when do you care whether or not I'm angry with you?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, I do find it's generally best to avoid incurring your wrath."

"You're not wrong," Severus said, smirking at Harry in a way that almost constituted fondness. Now that he was actually talking to the boy, all bitter feelings put aside, he could see the underlying sense of humor that so closely resembled his own. He paused, and then said in as normal a tone as he could manage, "But you can tell me… I suppose I'll calm down and realize eventually that you're right. Or maybe I'll realize you're wrong; depends on how rational your qualm with me is."

He was surprised at how much easier it was to get those words out in a normal way, now that they were on the same level.

"No mind control, then?" Harry asked, smiling.

"No, afraid not," Severus responded. "Though, the atrocity of your Occlumency skills suggests to me that you wouldn't be too adept in the field anyways."

"I've grown better!" Harry said defensively, frowning. "You have to admit, I've grown better."

Severus looked him up and down a moment, and then, relenting, said, "Yes, you have improved."

Harry looked a bit taken aback… and in fact, he hadn't expected Snape to admit this. He gave him a half smile as he said, "Thank you."

Severus gave him an odd look, and then nodded before turning around to walk towards his desk. It was strange; the boy was so… sincere- more so than he would have expected. He took a seat, and they looked again at each other, each seemingly lost in thought for little more than two seconds.

"You should be going," Severus said after a moment, his voice more soft than usual. "Your friends will be wondering what I've done with you."

Harry smiled. "Yeah, they will be." He turned to leave, and then stopped again. "Can we still… can we keep this quiet, for just a little while?"

Severus nodded. "I believe that would be the wise choice. While the Dark Lord is still at large, anyways, it would be best to behave as though nothing has changed."

Harry couldn't keep the look on his face from falling. Did this mean that Snape was still going to treat him as horrid as ever in Potion's class? Did this still mean that he had to fear running into the teacher in the corridor?

"We'll both know," said Severus, seeming to know what Harry was thinking. "To the rest of the world, we'll be the same as ever, but we'll both know that things are changing."

Harry looked up at him, seemingly struggling with an inward debate. Now seemed to be an opportune moment to ask about his resemblance to James, but they were getting on far better now than usual, and Harry hardly felt like dredging up bitter feelings of reminiscence from the other man. Finally, he settled on saying, "You're easier to talk to than I would have thought."

Snape gave him a vague smile, and Harry added, "How?"

Severus thoughtfully put his chin atop his hands, and said, "I just ask myself what your mother would say. She always had a way with words."

Harry looked down, mostly to hide the look he knew had flown onto his face. It was so strange hearing Snape refer to Lily as, "your mother." Even stranger was the fact that he was almost referring to Harry as… something of a son.

Harry looked back up at him and nodded. "Goodnight, sir," he said.

Severus hesitated for a moment before saying, "Goodnight, Harry."

For the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, Harry left Snape's office with a small smile on his face.

xxx

As Harry found himself face to face with the Fat Lady's portrait, inquiring of him the password, he realized that he had no plan for how to deal with his friends. It was hard to determine the way he would react to certain things they might say, since his current mood was a bit ambiguous. He had felt strangely resolved as he'd left Snape's office, and though there was still much to learn about the man, and much for the man to learn about him, the lines of communication seemed much more open… perhaps there was room to work on building some sort of relationship.

But now he was faced with a multitude of new- or old, however one may look at it- relationships, ones he hadn't given much thought to in the past few weeks. He could only hope for the best in facing them- he could only hope that no touchy subjects would come up… but then, knowing the capacity his friends had for empathy, this wasn't a very reasonable hope.

"Runespoor," Harry muttered quietly, drawing a breath to prepare himself for his entry to the common room.

The portrait swung open. The moment Harry had entered the tower, the four bright faces of his Gryffindor friends immediately turned in his direction, each of their laughing faces only wrinkling more into cheery smiles.

"Harry!" Ron called, waving him over. Harry put on what he hoped was a pleasant smile and headed in their directions.

"What did Snape say?" Neville asked fearfully as soon as Harry sat down. Harry looked just in time to catch Hermione giving the other boy a warning glare, and had the distinct feeling that they had, as predicted, been musing over the possibilities of how Snape had been treating him. For some strange reason, now that he could see their faces, it made more sense to imagine that telling them, as it was inevitable, might not be so bad after all. For now, however… it would simply have to stay under the hat, at the risk of too many complications.

"Oh, you know," Harry said, managing a chuckle, and instantly cringing at how false it sounded. "Same as always." He straightened his face and attempted an impression of the Potions Master's deep and angry voice, "If you waste my time this year, I will…" he rolled his eyes. "So on, so forth."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, "He's always going to give you a hard time. Might as well get over it now."

Ron looked for a moment as though he were going to say something, but when not one, but two glares from both girls of the party flew in his direction, his expression relented, and he resumed his earlier conversation of Quidditch. This led Harry to be even more curious about what they had spoken of while he was gone, but he didn't challenge it. He was much more thankful to listen to his best friend's chatter on the topic of Quidditch, even though it had been exhausted today, than he was to the more sensitive alternatives.

The conversation over sports finally ended when Ginny threatened to practice her hexes on her brother, and Harry shortly excused himself to write his letter to Lupin, bidding them all goodnight. They watched him go in a bit of confusion at his early withdrawal from the conversation, but for a reason unbeknownst to Harry, made no objections.

Sitting in his room, with quill poised against the clean parchment, Harry couldn't quite think what to write. Should he start with a topic addressed by Lupin in his last letter? Yes, that seemed to be a good beginning…

_Dear Professor Lupin,_

_I know you've been very busy, so any letter you have time to write me is great. I'm happy to hear from you.  
_

_I hope you're doing alright and that everything is going well with the Order. My visit this summer was so brief that I had little time to catch up with anyone other than Ron and Hermione. I sometimes feel a little out of touch with everything that is going on, but I guess it's a necessary measure, especially when most of the contact we have is through the post. _

_My summer since leaving the Dursley's has been rather eventful, but I am doing well, all things considered.  
_

Here Harry paused, giving some final consideration to a thought which had been stowing away in the back of his mind for some time now. He had a feeling that if there was anybody to understand… anyone who would speak to him with only his best interests at heart, it was Lupin. But would he feel differently, knowing the facts which Harry was considering sharing with him? Did he base his friendship with Harry on the fact that James was Harry's father?

With small hope that none of this was true, Harry wrote on.

_Much of what I would like to tell you right now can hardly be written in a letter, but I could certainly use a trustworthy person to talk to. Hopefully I will be able to see you sometime soon. There is so much to catch up on. I should warn you that some of what I have to tell you might come as a bit of a shock. I just want you to be prepared. If you cannot write me back immediately or make it to Hogwarts, I understand, but I'll be happy to see you if you can come.  
_

_Sincerely, _

_Harry_

Harry sat back to inspect his work, and feeling that it was good, despite the fact that eloquence was not his forte', he folded it and put it in an envelope addressed to Lupin. He was surprised to see that Hedwig had not made her way down to the school Owlery yet, but he was nevertheless grateful as he tied his message to her left leg and sent her on her way. He remained by the window for just a moment, watching her small, white form disappear into the clear night, and then climbed into his warm bed. Not two minutes later, he heard footsteps coming towards his room, and he pulled the maroon hangings shut before anyone could intrude on his thoughts.

xxx

"Hello, class," said the sandy haired, female teacher that had just entered the room. It turned out that Magical Law was, as all the other new classes were, taught in a brand new location with a brand new teacher. Early that morning, the sixth years had been given their schedules by their Heads of Houses, and told the new procedures for this year.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were now seated in a row in a classroom on the fourth corridor, and Harry and Ron were two of many who felt an impending sense of doom as the prim little teacher went over the syllabus for the coming year. Hermione, however, was looking anticipative, and a bit smug, as she sat back and listened, obviously envisioning the end of the year, when she would be that one student who had turned in every assignment and aced every test, as the Professor was now talking about.

"…and that one student is the one that each of you should strive to be," continued the Professor, who had introduced herself as Professor Corrine Lolan. "If any of you are suffering under the delusion that I will be the one working to help you get good marks, you are mistaken. I will give you help, but you must ask for it… no exceptions." Her eyes fell on Harry at this point, and he could barely contain himself as he resisted the urge to drop his head to the table in front of him.

"Not another one…" he groaned as she turned back to the board in the front. Hermione leaned forward to see past Ron and gave him an amused and sympathetic smile. Ron kept his gaze forward and gave his friend a pat on the shoulder, shaking his head.

A double block of that class landed the sixth year students with more than a sufficient amount of homework, which was certain to last them until they met again. The bell rang before there was time to start on it, and they were sent on their way to two hours of Defense against the Dark Arts.

When they entered the classroom, it was empty, and Harry realized that he was the only person that knew who the new teacher was… and he liked being the only one left out of the confusion, for once. Even he was registered into the pandemonium, however, when the class went silent, and he turned to see that the reason for this was the sudden presence of none other than Professor Snape.

Harry blinked several times as the man robed in black strode past his desk towards the front of the room. When he'd reached the desk, he placed several labeled vials atop it, and bent down to write something on a parchment lying there. He seemed to become aware of the fact that twenty pairs of eyes were on him, because he slowly lifted his hooded gaze to the class, a smirk forming around his lips.

"Never fear," Snape intoned in vindictive pleasure at stirring such a reaction, "Your teacher has not yet arrived." He shook his head and lowered his eyes, resuming writing. "Pitiful news though that is… considering the reason why."

At that very moment, the door opened with a small _click_, and the room resonated with the rising and falling clunk of Moody's unmistakable wooden leg. The class turned to gaze at him in astonishment, and Snape straightened, a look of displeasure coming over his features.

"You bring my potions, Snape?" Moody barked, seeing the look on his face.

"Of course, Moody," Snape said, a distasteful smile giving him an even more unsavory appearance. "I always try to be on time with these things, you know."

Moody's normal eye narrowed, making his electric blue one seem even more bizarre. "How are you enjoying Potions? They keeping you out of trouble? A bit less _alluring_ than the Dark Arts?"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "It is a complicated subject. I can't imagine it being handed over to another… I seem to be stuck in the position until-"

"Until you have another safe-hold from Azkaban?" Moody finished for him in a low growl, so that only the students nearest to him could hear.

The smile on Snape's face vanished, and no other feature except the sudden glint in his eye gave away his incensement. He took several slow steps towards Moody. "I wonder if you're jealous," he said very softly, "considering I have been more evasive of capture than you… No need to feel inadequate, though, Moody-" his voice was heavy with derisive sarcasm, "I'm sure there are _plenty_ of old men who've found themselves in the very same predicament. You are no less… _worthy_ of this position than anyone else. No need to compensate by pathetic means of intimidation."

"I would say the same to you, Snape," Moody said.

Snape raised his eyebrows, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I have the luxury of not caring," he said calmly, looking the other man up and down. He then departed; Moody's eye visibly turned to follow him, all the way out the door and down the corridor beyond. Their new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher appeared, moments later, unshaken, as he turned to speak to them.

"Dark Wizards," he began, "are all around…"

xxx

"Ginny, you've never seen such tension between two teachers. It was amazing- I thought they were going have an all out duel right there!" Ron was saying later that night as they sat in the common room, relating their experiences of the day.

"Moody would have won," Neville opined, seemingly visualizing such an event.

"I don't know," Hermione disagreed, shaking her head. "Professor Snape looked pretty angry, and he's got a few more advantages than Professor Moody- he's less worn, at any cost."

Ron wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes acrimoniously. "Yeah, but Moody's been fighting Dark Wizards all his life, and he's still not been done in-"

"But look at the state he's in," Hermione returned. She waved Ron off as he opened his mouth to argue that point, saying, "But it's of no matter. The fact is, they shouldn't have even been saying such things in front of the whole class…"

"Snape shouldn't have provoked him," Ron said, settling back in his chair, as though that settled it.

"…But, did he?"

All eyes turned to Harry in shock, and he met their gazes not realizing of how odd this sounded coming from him. "Really, who provoked who?"

There was a pause, and then Hermione said, "Good for you, Harry. He's right- Moody was really the antagonist, in this case… and Moody ventured into dangerous territory…"

"I still can't believe he would make allusions to Snape's past as a-" Ginny was cut off by the group's effort to hush her; she continued in a whisper, "as a _Death Eater_." She shook her head. "That's some, er, touchy material to cover on the first day."

"Well," Neville said, "I don't think any of us find it surprising."

Ron quickly agreed with the latter. "Yeah, and it's not as if he actually talked about it in the lesson, so technically…"

"Ron, you're not one to talk about technicalities," Hermione snapped.

"Why are you sticking up for Snape… _again_?" Ron suddenly bit back, uncharacteristically annoyed.

Hermione looked somewhat stung by his tone, and looked to Harry, who gave Ron a warning look.

There was a moment of awkward silence, which Ginny broke. "Right, well… it's late, I should be getting off to bed…"

"Yeah, me too," Neville said, rising at the same time. "Are you three going up?"

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, who were both looking very sullen now, sitting back in their seats with their arms crossed. "I think we'll be just a bit… There's time for a visit to Hagrid; we've an hour to be out before curfew is broken."

Hermione looked around indifferently, and then rose from her seat. "Sounds good to me," she said, shrugging. She still seemed a bit wounded, and Harry had an idea that she was going to be a bit cold to Ron until he figured out where he'd gone wrong. He also had an idea that Ron wasn't going to do so… which would probably start a later fight. _Oh well_, he thought, _at least this'll relieve tension for now_.

Ron looked at Harry for a moment, and then he followed suit. "You don't reckon it's too cold to need a cloak yet, do you?" He said, heading towards the door. Harry looked to Hermione, and she gave another dismissive shrug. They said goodnight to Neville and Ginny, and then followed the other redhead out the portrait hole.

xxx

Predictably, Ron couldn't pass up another opportunity to tell a story which worked against Snape's favor, and so, fifteen minutes after the three had arrived at Hagrid's cabin, Harry and Hermione were exchanging bored, slightly annoyed looks as Ron ended his tale for the second time that night.

A moment passed in which Hagrid looked at Ron with a small frown on his face, and then stood to tend to the steaming kettle which he'd started for tea. With his back turned, he said somewhat admonishingly, "Ron, I know yer not taken ter Professor Snape, but haven't I told yeh repeatedly that yeh've got nothin' ter worry about?"

Ron quickly attempted to correct Hagrid. "Oh, no- this time I'm not saying it was anything suspicious, I'm just-"

Hagrid turned and looked at him. "Jus' badmouthing yer teachers? Well, find someone else to say it to, Ron, 'cause I'm not about ter go and join yeh in insulting my fellow Professers."

Harry and Hermione simultaneously raised their eyebrows at the firmness in Hagrid's voice, looking at each other in surprise. Ron looked darkly shocked for a moment, and then his face went to a sulky frown and he slumped down in his chair, crossing his arms.

Hermione looked over at Ron, and then back at Hagrid. "It was weird though, Hagrid. I mean, you would think that two grown men would refrain from saying such things in front of an entire class…" she said, reiterating her disapproval at this fact.

She seemed to be tugging at an explanation from the half-giant, but when she received none, Harry prompted him. "Did something ever happen between those two?" He asked, careful to keep his voice neutral; he didn't want to seem in Snape's favor because of his friends, and he didn't want to seem in Moody's favor for fear of Hagrid's reprimand.

Hagrid's great shoulders gave a heave as he exhaled audibly. "I suppose," he said, carrying four mugs of tea to the table, "that yeh'll find out soon enough anyway, am I right?"

The three nodded vigorously, faces expectant. Hagrid sighed again, sitting down at the table, which gave a great groan as he leaned his forearms on it. "Yeh all know by now that Professor Snape had fallen in with You-Know-Who's ranks fer a while. Well, some time after You-Know-Who had fallen, all his followers, past an' present, were being put on trial. Snape's was a very long one, and only Dumbledore's repeated an' insistent testimony saved him from Azkaban. But while he _was _on trial, Moody tried very hard to keep him from gettin' off his sentence. See- Snape was one of the few who'd escaped in Moody's every attempted capture. I think he felt that Snape soiled his reputation as a great Dark Wizard catcher. Make a long story short; them two have a very long history of hostility."

Ron frowned. "But Snape was never this upset by Moody before…"

"But that wasn't Moody, was it?" Hermione pointed out.

Hagrid nodded towards Hermione. "Exactly," he said. "_That_ Moody was an imposter… he knew summat about their history, but didn' see him the way the _real_ Moody does."

Hermione nodded, and mumbled, "So some tension is liable to occur."

Ron cocked his head to the side. "You can say that again."

xxxEnd Chapterxxx

AN: I am soooo sorry for the delay… I know, it's been so long, as it has with the other chapters… I'm trying, I really am!

I'll probably add more to these notes later, but I forget at the moment all I wanted to tell you… Well, let me know what you thought of the chapter, I'm truly curious!


	24. Near and Dear

Chapter 24

Near and Dear

xxx

Remus Lupin had received, not two days earlier, a very intriguing letter. Busy though his schedule was, he would have been lying if he hadn't admitted his peeked interest in the unknown topic that the letter alluded to. Of course, from anyone else, promises and assurances that this matter was none of life and death might have pacified him enough to keep him at his work until the most opportune time to respond was presented. However, as the author of this particular letter was Harry Potter, and as he had a history of landing himself in very difficult situations, Lupin made a vow to spend this day at Hogwarts.

xxx

Severus and Moody sat in the Great Hall for breakfast that morning, positioned in the farthest locations possible from each other. Severus glared fiercely down at his plate, chewing on his meat with far more vigor than required on a simple breakfast sausage. Moody suspiciously watched his every movement, with no effort to make his scrutiny inconspicuous- his eyes even followed the motions of the other man's hand as he reached for another serving of eggs, as though the way in which he spooned them onto his plate might give away some secret motivation concealed within.

The silent battle between the two seemed to prolong breakfast more than usual, but finally, fifteen minutes after half the staff was gone from the table, Moody pushed his chair back, finished with his meal. The Potions Master allowed his dark, flashing gaze to follow him out the hall as he limped along, but Moody paid him no heed.

Severus waited a short while, drumming his fingers on the table beside his plate. He didn't want to make his way out into the entrance hall just yet, as he knew Moody was liable to still be there - his wooden leg didn't exactly make for speedy travel. Finally satisfied that he was clear of this danger several minutes later, Severus excused himself from the table. He made his way into the entrance hall, unprepared for the scene that was to greet him there.

Moody had not yet made it up to his classroom, and there was a very obvious explanation for this; he was too busy with Lupin pinned against the cold stone floor. Severus observed the ironic scene for only a moment. Moody was standing, looking quite pleased with himself, and muttering something about 'imposters and criminals', while his wand was pointed at the pile of tattered robes which contained the order member. Lupin was struggling; a silencing charm prevented him from spitting out the explanation which he seemed now desperate to give.

"Moody," Severus called almost lazily, strolling up to the scene. He'd said before that he would prefer this crazy old man to Lupin; he had been wrong. "May I ask, for what reason you are harassing our dear Mr. Lupin?"

Moody's back had been turned to him, and he seemed a bit caught off guard as he turned and looked at Snape in surprise. He quickly recovered himself, righting his expression to a dark frown. "I had no reports that we were to have visitors today… I have reason to believe that he is, in fact, an enemy of Dumbledore's, sent here with plans to infiltrate the school."

Severus looked at him blankly for a moment, then to Lupin, whose expression was that of pained annoyance. "Reassuring though it is to know that we've a highly paranoi—Oh, I beg your pardon,_ vigilant—_auror guarding the castle, since the wards _so often_ fail," he said, rolling his eyes, "I don't think the headmaster would appreciate-"

"Well, Snape, why don't you just worry about your own opinions of what Dumbledore would appreciate, eh? It never seemed to stop you before, when you were in the initiation ceremony for Voldemort's ranks, or when you were cursing Order members in your frantic escape from them-"

Severus whipped out his wand, brandishing it with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Do you really care to finish that, Mad-Eye?"

The curse on Lupin was suddenly lifted as Moody whirled to point his wand at the darker man before him, matching his fierce expression. "You really think you could win in a duel against me, Snape?"

"I-"

"It is fortunate that we will never find out!" the sound of a deep, powerful voice filled the corridor, followed by resounding bang of the Great Hall's doors as they slammed shut. The three men present in the entrance hallway had turned at that moment to see Dumbledore, striding quickly towards them, blue eyes ablaze. "Perhaps, gentlemen, the next time you wish to settle such a dispute," he said in the same authorative voice, though lower in volume, "you should take care to do so in private."

Neither man responded for a moment. They hadn't really realized the entire Great Hall had been able to watch the display of events from their seats. Dumbledore looked back and forth between them. "Well, have you no explanation?"

Both opened their mouths, but Severus beat Moody to speaking first. "I _do_ apologize, Headmaster," he said in a tone that convinced no one, especially considering the mocking smirk playing across his lips. "I personally was as shocked as you are now to stumble upon Moody assaulting Mr. Lupin in so harsh a manner. I was simply doing my part in ensuring that no one was harmed."

Dumbledore brought his gaze from Moody and Lupin to Severus, and looked unconvincingly over his spectacles at him. "I highly doubt those were your true motivations, Severus," he said calmly.

"That hurts," Severus said flatly, quirking an eyebrow.

Dumbledore turned to Lupin, ignoring Severus' comment. "Remus, so good to see you,' he said in a far more friendly tone, shaking the man's hand. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

Lupin gave him an odd, questioning look, glancing back at Severus and Moody, who were both now glaring at Dumbledore. Dumbledore gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head, as if to say, _"Don't even ask, I'll deal with them later_."

"Ah," Lupin responded to Dumbledore's expression, understanding. "I'm here to see Harry."

"Harry, really?" Dumbledore asked curiously. "Just to drop in, or…?"

"I received a letter from him a few days ago," said Lupin, frowning at the expression of perplexity that had developed now on Severus' face. "He said he had something he wanted to tell me…" he trailed off, wondering at the odd way _everyone_ was looking at him now. Perhaps he would be betraying Harry's confidence if he were to say any more.

Dumbledore hesitated a moment; he wanted to inquire of Harry's letter- but then, he already had a good idea of what it was about. And from the looks of Severus' face, so did he.

"Of course," Dumbledore said as if nothing were amiss, nodding and turning towards the hall. "If you go up to my office, you two may speak privately there."

"Ah- Headmaster," Severus spoke up from behind as the two made to walk away. "I was wondering if I might have a word with Potter, first."

Dumbledore turned around to face him, considering him silently for a moment. Severus could tell, simply by the signs of an inward debate on the old man's face, that both were thinking along the same lines- Harry was planning to tell Lupin, and Dumbledore wasn't sure how to let Severus react to this. Of course, he would predict the worst; how right or wrong he was might depend on Harry's behavior.

Dumbledore did, in fact, have an idea that the words Severus had in mind weren't ones he would approve of, yet a simple feeling such as this wasn't enough to justify refusal to Severus' request. The Potions Master was standing before him, subtly smirking at his unease. Dumbledore gave him a reproving look, but at the same time gave him a small, compulsory nod. "You may speak to both of us, in just a moment. Remus, if you would show yourself up to my office…"

Lupin, trying not to make it obvious that he was very keen to know what was going on, tilted his head in acquiescence and headed in the other direction. Dumbledore turned to Moody.

"Alastor, I believe you have a lesson to prepare," he said, clearly indicating the need for Moody's departure as well as he gestured towards the staircase.

Though he looked very much as though he might argue, the Defense teacher was given no choice except to leave in silence as Severus followed the Headmaster to retrieve Harry from the Great Hall. It took only a moment to summon the boy, and he looked quite relieved to be rescued from his chattering friends.

Harry stepped out into the entrance hall, giving Dumbledore a questioning look, and avoiding the Potions Master's gaze until the doors had been shut again.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, his voice slightly apprehensive at the dark, suspicious look on Snape's face.

"Lupin is here to see you," Severus said softly. He betrayed nothing of wariness in his tone, but Harry could tell by the flicker in his eyes, as he purposefully averted them, that he knew what was going on.

Dumbledore gave the dark man a second, but this time unnoticed, glance of disapproval, and then turned back to Harry. "Harry, if you would like, I can escort you up to-"

"There's no need," Harry said affably, waving him off and looking directly at the other professor. He could see that Snape desired a word with him, and all his instincts told him that now was a better time than later to talk to him. Yet, despite this feeling, he was still surprised to hear his next sentence issued from his own mouth. "Professor, may I talk to you?"

Both men raised their eyebrows, and Harry attempted to keep the relief off his face at getting his prior sentence out. He looked up at Snape, trying to behave as though he had logically thought out his previous words, and wasn't the least bit surprised at their boldness.

"Headmaster," Severus said without removing his shrewd gaze from Harry. "The password to your office has not been changed?"

"…No, Severus, it hasn't," Dumbledore said in a quiet, disapproving voice, as though to warn Snape to hold his temper. Severus ignored him, however, and whirled around to head towards the office. Harry gave Dumbledore one last glance, offering him a small, almost reassuring smile, and hurried after Snape, who was walking quite quickly.

Not until they had reached a quiet, empty corridor, did Snape slow down and eventually speak.

"You wrote to Lupin," he stated quietly, sounding resentful of the fact.

"I didn't think you'd mind," Harry responded.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say I minded," he said, his volume raised. "Though some prior notice would have been considerate. I suppose you thought nothing of the fact that you'd have days to prepare yourself for this, and then it would be sprung on me so I could handle it with only a moment's notice."

"Well it's not as if I've been plotting against you," Harry objected, sounding more annoyed than he'd intended. He took a breath, and then said in a more restrained voice, "I don't understand why you're so concerned when he's here to talk to me."

Severus stopped mid-stride. "Did it not occur to you," he countered, turning and looking seriously at Harry, "that Lupin will surely come back to me to clarify whatever you say to him?" He seemed angry, and Harry could only hope that his anger wasn't directed towards him. "There are… many things I have failed to mention up to this point about what went on between your mother and I, in relation to the 'marauders'." He rolled his eyes at the mention of their title. "Kind and gentle hearted as you may believe Lupin to be, it's a whole second story when it comes to Lily."

Harry frowned deeply, considering this statement as they resumed walking. "What do you mean?" he asked a moment later, still thinking.

"I mean," Severus said in frustration, "that when Potter developed his interest in Lily, she became like an extension of him- something they were to protect. Something of a sister, in a sense… though I was always given the impression that Lupin may have even felt a _bit more_ strongly than that."

"So when you…"

"I don't doubt they would have broken down my door if Lily hadn't told them to keep away from me for _their_ own good," Severus said, answering Harry's unasked question.

Harry was silent for a short while before saying, "Professor Lupin has never seemed all too hateful towards you, though."

Severus nodded. "Dumbledore's doing," he said. "When Lupin came to work here, Dumbledore told him that there was no reason to hold a grudge against me anymore, but that he couldn't say why. Lupin is too noble and faithful in Dumbledore to disregard those orders, no matter how indirect." He paused, looking off to the side. "In all truth, Lupin probably likes me just about the same amount Black did… he hides it better, is all."

"I didn't realize… I'm sorry," Harry said quietly. Severus looked sharply at him, and then turned his head forward again, not responding.

"Maybe you should come with me," Harry suggested, watching Snape's face for a response.

Snape gave him another glance out of the corners of his eyes and kept walking. "Why would I do that?"

Harry shrugged. "It just seems like a good idea, that's all," he said. "That way someone will be there when he confronts you about it."

Severus smirked. "And would that be better for him or for me?"

Harry smiled. "Hard to say."

It seemed strange- Snape was Harry's father, and yet he acted unlike any father-figure he'd ever had in his life. Any other adult offered him comfort and sympathy, and took every chance possible to prove that they cared for Harry. Snape didn't… but for some reason, it only made Harry try a little harder to get along with him… and he never would have pictured himself doing _that _during the past few years.

Severus never did confirm whether or not he would stay with Harry. They reached the stone gargoyle and Severus said the password, waiting for the stairway to appear while staring straight ahead. Harry kept looking up at him, wondering what he was thinking, and why he was keeping so silent.

Harry also couldn't help but notice the fact that Snape was sticking by his side, all the way into Dumbledore's office. The older man hardly even looked at him, but when Harry finally did catch his eye, he gave him a barely perceptible nod… and a strange feeling spread through Harry then. It was something like… assurance- of course, that was it.

"Harry," Lupin greeted him warmly as he stepped into the room, gripping Harry by the shoulders. "It has been far too long."

"Hello, Professor Lupin," Harry said, a bit awkwardly as Lupin pulled him into a one-armed embrace.

Lupin then turned to Snape, clearly oblivious to the obvious tension in the room. "Hello Severus," he said conversationally. "How was your holiday?"

"Delightful," Severus said somewhat distastefully, looking over the other man's dilapidated attire. The room went quiet, and Severus and Lupin considered each other for a moment.

Finally, Lupin reopened the door of Dumbledore's office, and smiled at Severus. "Well," he said, "thank you so much for escorting Harry up here-"

"I'm staying," Severus said, crossing his arms. He'd been waiting for the moment when he could say that- he wasn't quite sure why, he just knew he'd been waiting.

Lupin glanced at Harry, who reaffirmed this with a nod. "You- you're staying?" Lupin repeated, eyes narrowing. "Harry-"

"You'll undoubtedly understand soon enough, Lupin," Severus said, stepping around him to the center of the office, and seating himself in one of the chairs there. "Well, there's no use in holding off," he said, seeing Harry's apprehensive expression. "Might as well get on with it."

"Right," Harry said nervously. "Perhaps you'd best have a seat, professor," he said to Lupin, who did just that; he seemed ready to do so anyways.

"Is this about the letter you sent to me, Harry?" Lupin asked, trying to avoid glancing sideways at Severus.

Harry nodded. "Yes, it is." He hesitated before continuing.

"What is it?" Lupin prompted gently, giving Harry a warm, inviting look that said _you can tell me anything_. Harry wondered if that was true.

Harry looked up at him. "It's about my father. He's… not who we thought."

Lupin continued to smile at Harry, but something about the way the light shifted in his eyes signaled his confusion at Harry's statement. "James?" He questioned. "What do you mean he was not who we thought?"

"No," Harry replied with difficulty, unsure how exactly to phrase what he needed to express. "That's not what I meant."

The smile on Lupin's face began to fade, and his brow furrowed in further befuddlement. "Harry?"

When no one replied for a moment, Lupin's eyes flickered to Severus. The Professor's expression was indiscernible, however, and Lupin looked from him back to Harry.

"James was not actually my father... at least, not in the blood related sense," Harry said, watching Lupin carefully. He was surprised with himself for feeling so calm as he said the words out loud; Lupin, however, was not handling it nearly as well.

The color in Lupin's face faded into an ashy white. He didn't say anything for a moment; he seemed to be swallowing the idea, absorbing the information. His look of bewilderment slowly gave way to understanding, and purposely avoiding looking at Severus, he asked, "Am I right to guess that…?"

Harry glanced at his father, who gave him a reassuring nod, and then affirmed with a small gesture.

Lupin slowly turned to Severus, shaking his head. "This isn't possible…"

"Why not?" Severus challenged in an almost taunting manner, raising his eyebrows. Harry squeezed his eyes closed. He wished the man wouldn't make the situation worse than it already was. "Why is it so difficult to believe? After all, Lupin, you remember better than anyone does how long we were together. If you honestly think we were celibate the whole time-"

"Well of course not!" Lupin scoffed, bringing his hands angrily down to the arms of the chair with a small _clap_.

"Then why isn't it possible?" Severus said, raising his eyebrows and maintaining the same look of mocking, placid calm.

Lupin sputtered for a moment as if searching for an answer. "If Harry was not James' son, why would he have gone to such lengths to protect him? Did he even know about this?"

"Think of all my fa-James Potter-did to help you keep your secret, Professor Lupin," Harry offered up, trying to take the focus off of Severus and provide some insight into the situation. "He would have done anything for his friends. My mother was one of them."

Lupin seemed to take this into consideration, but his expression of indignation didn't fade.

"Lupin," Severus said after a long moment, "What happened between Lily and I-"

"There is nothing you could say to change my mind about the two of you," Lupin responded quickly, cutting Severus off mid-sentence. "You never deserved her, and you certainly don't deserve him. There is nothing you could say that could convince me otherwise. Harry," he said, turning to the boy, "I despise placing you in the middle of this, but are you truly prepared to let this man be a parent to you?"

Severus opened his mouth to retort, but catching glance of Harry's defeated expression, quickly decided to refrain for the moment. He hoped that Harry would set the werewolf to rights.

Harry was at a loss for words for a moment. Severus had implied that Lupin's reaction would be less than exuberant, but he hadn't honestly thought that the man would go so quickly from amiability and warmth to… this. "I'm prepared to try," Harry said, seeming to find his voice.

Lupin shook his head. "You can't mean that. Do you know the way he treated your mother? Do you know how he threw her out on her-"

"That will be quite enough!" Severus finally barked, rising from his seat. "We can kindly leave my past with her out of this!"

"How can we, Severus?" Lupin returned, also getting to his feet. "If the way you treated your wife was any indication of how you'll treat your child, then-"

"I treated her very well when she was my wife!" Severus responded. "But a wife does not cheat on her husband- regardless of whether or not she actually did, I was only reacting to the circumstances as they were presented to me."

"James went through all of those years of jealousy and he never harmed her," Lupin said. "_He _was a good man."

"Oh, no, he never harmed _her_; he just tried to push _me_ out of the picture time and time again by making me look a fool. Didn't care how miserable it was making her."

"No more miserable than being with you most likely made her… and it wasn't too difficult a task for James, was it?" Lupin retorted, and Severus moved towards him.

"Stop!" Harry finally shouted, demanding the attention of both adults.

"You can't honestly think, Harry, that after all he's done-"

"After all he's done out of respect for me in these past few weeks," Harry said, his voice drowning out that of Lupin's. "I'm willing to believe that some men do, in fact… change."

Severus was gazing at Harry with a feeling swelling in his chest that he'd never felt with the boy before. He was actually… _defending him_. Harry Potter, the boy whom he'd tortured as much as possible during the past five years was standing there, defending him… against Lupin, of all people.

Lupin was gazing at Harry, almost stupefied by the very same fact that Severus was contemplating with wonder. What could possibly have taken place within the last few weeks that would have changed the boy's opinion of Severus so drastically? Who had said what to him, and how much truth had there been to it?

"Professor Snape," Harry said, turning to face him. "would you leave me with Professor Lupin?"

Severus didn't speak for a moment. He had no desire to leave this office; he had no way of knowing what poison Lupin would speak about him once he left. However, to refuse Harry's wishes would cast him in an equally negative light. "If you wish," he said at last, hiding the reluctance from his voice. He wanted to ask him to come by his office later… but he didn't. He just gazed oddly at him for another moment, before turning to leave the office.

As Harry turned to face Lupin, he could see that the man looked distraught. He was staring desolately at the floor, his hands clasped in his lap, seemingly ashamed both at his own behavior, and the sickening fact that Severus now had a claim to Lily… _they_ had a child. All Harry could see in his expression, however, was disappointment. He lowered himself into the chair facing Lupin, and waited for him to speak first. When he finally did, he asked one very simple question.

"Why would you ever let yourself consider that man father?"

Harry looked up at him, his eyes sad and downcast. "He's the last chance I have at family," he explained quietly.

xxx

Author's Notes

This chapter has been edited just slightly, I hope for the better!

I love you all platonically!


	25. Nightly Burdens and a Refusal

Chapter 25

Nightly Burdens and a Refusal

xxx

"Shut the door behind you, Potter."

The previous night had ended with a heartfelt apology from Lupin, having been convinced by Harry to give Severus another chance. It hadn't entirely surprised Severus, for he'd known full well at the time that there was no request Harry could make of Lupin that the man wouldn't fulfill. Still, he'd been somewhat amazed at the fact that Harry had only taken an hour to do so; it had taken _exactly_ that amount of time since Severus had left the office for Lupin to find his way down to the Potions Master and confess his regret for his rash actions and unkind words. Severus scoffed at the thought.

What Severus couldn't bring himself to scoff at, however, was what he'd heard as he'd stood outside the door, listening in on the conversation being continued without him. _He's the last chance I have at family_, the boy had said. About Severus… he'd said this about Severus.

Now it was morning, and Harry and Severus were conducting an "Occlumency lesson" before the start of classes. Although Harry had become proficient at the skill several lessons ago, it was still a good excuse for the two to see each other, even if neither would admit that this was the true purpose for having them.

"Lupin told me he came and spoke to you last night," Harry said as he sat in front of Severus' desk.

Severus nodded, his eyes skimming the paper in front of him. "Mhmm," he murmured, marking something off in red. "Would you like an award for your role as peacemaker?"

Harry's ears flushed, but he said simply, "That wasn't my purpose in bringing it up."

"I'm sure it wasn't," Severus said dismissively, continuing to grade papers.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it and slumped down into his seat as an alternative. "Would it kill you to be nice once in a while?" Harry grumbled, fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of his robe. Severus didn't respond. "Or a simple thanks would do."

The two sat in silence for a long while, Severus grading papers, and Harry becoming frustrated by the same piece of protruding thread on his sleeve. Neither spoke, but it was a comfortable silence. Understanding lingered in the air- both had their grievances with one another, but at the same time, both knew they were now on good terms. Severus still wasn't playing the father to Harry, but that seemed alright for the time being. They were learning how to be civil. And unbeknownst to Harry, Severus was learning to truly _like _Harry… in fact, at many intervals, Severus was reminded distinctly of Lily. It was refreshing, in all truth.

Finally, Harry sat up and pulled his bag onto his lap, getting prepared to leave. "I have D.A. this morning right after toast," he said.

For the first time all morning, Severus looked up at him. There was a short hesitation, and then, Severus said, "Thank you." It was a little late, by Harry's standards, but it proved the man was capable of showing at least a modicum of gratitude.

Harry nodded and gave him a small, almost relieved smile. "You're welcome," he said, before turning and heading out the door.

xxx

Harry paced three times in front of the door to the Room of Requirement. It seemed almost useless, keeping the D.A. in session now, when Umbridge was gone and they had a perfectly capable, no matter how crazy, defense teacher to guide them during class time. However, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that some students would feel it still necessary, and in part, he agreed. He found it vaguely unsettling that dark activity in the Wizarding world was so seldom being reported… it meant that Voldemort was planning something. It meant that he was waiting, for some sign, some event, some opportunity… Harry could only wonder at what it was. He could only hope dearly that an attack wasn't coming any time soon.

Harry placed his hand on the cold, metal doorknob, and gave it a twist. The door swung open, and he found himself facing the ever familiar Defense room, fully equipped with books, cushions, and a wide open space to practice in. He set his books down on one of the shelves and began exploring the other texts, thinking of topics for this year's lessons.

"I see you're here already," Harry heard Hermione say as she came in behind him. He turned and smiled in greeting. She returned it, placing her bag next to his items on the shelf. "Find anything interesting?" She asked, sitting next to him and peering over at the book in his lap.

"Not so far," Harry admitted reluctantly, closing the book and reaching for another.

Hermione watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Harry," she said tentatively, and he knew she was approaching a topic which she deemed sensitive. "How are you doing?"

The ever vague question. 'How are you doing'… he hated when people asked that. It was so unspecific, left so much room for misunderstanding. He shrugged.

"I don't mean to pry," she said quietly, touching his shoulder. "You just seem… a bit off, that's all. And after what happened last year…"

"I'm fine," Harry said shortly, standing up and placing the second book he'd grabbed back on the shelf. He had dreaded, all summer, these sorts of talks during the school year. He'd known that his friends would want him to talk about Sirius' death, and it had been more than he cared to share with anyone, at least for the time being. Now, with his new relationship to Severus fresh in his mind, he felt more sensitive than ever discussing any emotional issues, especially where 'family' was involved.

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"_Yes_, Hermione, I'm sure," Harry insisted through clenched teeth. Hermione visibly flinched at his tone, and he instantly regretted snapping at her, but neither said another word as several more students filed into the room. Harry and Hermione looked at one another for a moment more, and with a thoughtful grimace, Hermione turned to greet the other students. Harry shook his head and went back to flipping through books.

The last two students to enter the room were Ron and Dean, both of whom were laughing obnoxiously. For a reason Harry couldn't quite put his finger on, this was far more irritating to him in this moment than it normally would have been; he suspected Hermione's incessant prodding for information had left him in a more petulant mood than he'd entered the room with.

"Could everyone please quiet down?" Harry called over the room, surveying the students. There were several newcomers- most were first and second years, sitting quietly in the back corner of the room. However, they were the only people who seemed capable of being quiet at the moment, as the room was still buzzing with noise and the gentle murmur of conversation. Harry looked around impatiently, and shouted again, "Everyone! Sit down and-"

A sharp noise pierced the air, and Harry looked around in surprise. Ginny Weasley was standing behind him, the same whistle he'd used the previous year dangling from her lips. She reached up and pulled it from her mouth, stepping forward and looking around the room darkly.

"You heard him," she said to the now silent room. "Keep quiet." She raised her eyebrows and looked challengingly at a few surly looking fourth years, but they said nothing. "Good. Back to what you were saying, Harry?" she prompted, stepping forward and taking her seat amongst the other students.

Harry looked at her for a moment, and then nodded. "Right," he said, still a bit stunned. "Thank you for that." Ginny nodded happily. "As I was about to say, this is, for most of us, the second year of DA." He stopped, deciding whether to say it was Dumbledore's Army, or Defense Association… he settled for omitting that small detail. "For those of you who are new, you should know now that this is a group for the serious defense student. If you don't _want _to learn, then don't waste my time."

Hermione looked over at him, eyes widened slightly, but said nothing. Ron raised his eyebrows and looked off to the side, exchanging glances with Dean. Harry saw this, and gave them a dark look… The first years in the back corner now looked quite frightened, and one little boy was visibly shaking, which Harry didn't notice until he'd turned back to the group before him.

"Not to give you the idea that you're not wanted here," Harry amended quickly as he righted his expression, seeing the dramatic effect his simple words had had on them. He'd forgotten how easily first years scared. "I'm more than pleased to help you. I just hope you're here for the right reasons, is all." He cleared his throat nervously, and then continued with the lecture.

The small children relaxed a little as the lesson wore on, but nothing Harry did quite erased the look of fearful nervousness from their eyes. By the time he released everyone, he was growing quite annoyed with everyone's deliberately tactful responses to him, and the way all the younger students were avoiding his gaze, as though he were a basilisk and they might drop dead at first glance.

"Blimey, Harry," Seamus said, pausing with Dean halfway to the door as the last of the younger students left. "What's got you so worked up today?"

Harry turned to face him, more annoyed than seemed warranted to the comment, but Ginny placed a hand on his shoulder from behind, shaking her head firmly as he looked at her.

"He's just had a rough morning," Hermione quickly supplied, standing at Ginny's side.

"Yeah, Remedial Potions," Ron said from somewhere in the back.

Seamus's brow crinkled, and Dean started to say, "But isn't Harry in-"

"Yes," Hermione and Ginny said in unison, moving towards them and pushing them out the door.

"Don't ask about it," Hermione said.

"It's far too complicated to explain," Ginny added, and then shut the door in the faces of the two Gryffindor boys. She turned to Harry. "Remedial Potions?" she asked.

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He found it funny that she had gone along with their explanation, despite her own confusion about it. "Occlumency lessons," he said. "I was only supposed to tell Ron and Hermione last year- Professor Snape has been teaching me Occlumency for the past year now."

"Oh," Ginny said, taken aback. "Has he really?"

"No, we're lying, Ginny," Ron said as he brushed past them, heading for the door.

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said as they all followed him out into the hallway. "I'm just… surprised, is all. I thought you hated him."

"Well, I certainly didn't _choose_ to have him teach me," Harry said defensively, though he wasn't sure what he was defending.

"Well, of course not," Ginny said, laughing self-consciously. "I'm just surprised you're not more… resentful of the fact, is all."

Harry shrugged, hoping to dismiss the topic.

xxx

It had been months since Harry had been burdened with a vision involving Voldemort or any of his activities. He'd enjoyed that small luxury; though it was one every other person had been afforded throughout his or her lifetime, he counted himself lucky to have his mind as his own for even a short while.

If only the trend were able to continue.

_There was running, screaming, the howling and whistling of spells and hexes flying every way… there was a great explosion, illuminating the dark sky in a plume of bright white and red fire, enveloping the small town from the rest of the world, sealing and marking it with the symbol of the Dark Mark… there was to be no doubt whom this job belonged to. It was the work of the Dark Lord Voldemort, and the world would know that he was back with no less power than he'd left with. The world would recognize his new, prevailing supremacy with a sense of formidability it hadn't felt since his first reign. _

"_It's a beautiful thing, death," Voldemort uttered softly, with sadistic pleasure contorting his already grotesquely inhuman face. "More beautiful is the grief it causes… they will know, Wormtail… they will know." _

_He walked the streets of the tiny wizard town as though nothing were out of the ordinary- as though the shrieks and cries of small children clinging to their dead mothers' bodies were an everyday apparition. And to this man, they were. He regularly saw the devastated, nearly phantasmal villages he'd destroyed, charred corpses crumpled in black heaps, lining the streets... The image was only haunting to the virgin eyes of those whose minds were not tainted with the visions of such evil- who had no concept of the dismissal of human lives as though they were recyclable, easily tossed and indifferently shattered…_

_Harry Potter's mind was that of innocence. He'd seen horror, oh yes…but mass murder, with such horrible, gruesome… he screamed. He screamed and he shouted and he could feel tears rolling down his face. He hoped someone would find them… he wanted someone to come, to help, to stop this- to save the little boy being-_

"Harry! Harry!"

He was being shaken.

"Harry, wake up!" He was coming back to reality. "Neville, go fetch Dumbledore, and get Hermione on your way-"

"Ron!" Harry gasped. He was cold, clammy, shivering… he felt a bit as though he might retch. He struggled to sit upright, still panting heavily, ready to spring out of bed and into action- but his friend pushed him back. He struggled, but Ron held him firmly.

"Ron, you have to let me-"

"Harry," Ron said as calmly as possible, though the quaver in his voice was all but undetectable. He had seen Harry shaken up enough times to know that he became rash, impulsive, and unpredictable in these moments, and it had him a bit worried. "You are at Hogwarts, in Gryffindor tower."

"I know," Harry said, frustrated at having the obvious pointed out to him. "But I need-"

"Who would you like me to bring?" a female's voice came from behind Ron, and Harry looked behind him to see Hermione standing there, pale as a ghost, wringing her robes in her hands, and Ginny, clutching Hermione's elbow and staring wide-eyed at Harry.

Harry was far too shaky and disoriented to take his friends reactions to heart. "Severus," he breathed. "Bring Severus."

Ron was staring at him like he had a fatal disease for which there was no cure. "He's delusional," he said to Hermione. "He can't want-"

"Let's just get him, Hermione," Ginny said in a scared voice, still staring at Harry. "I'll go with you. Let's just get him."

"Look," Ron said. "I've already sent Neville off for Dumbledore-"

But Hermione and Ginny weren't listening. They'd already dashed out the door.

It was late at night, and the two girls couldn't quite say they were pleased to be standing in front of Snape's door. The hallway around them was dark and cold, and they stood there, barefooted and shivering in their dressing robes. But their attention was focused on the fact that Harry needed them to do this right now, and they weren't backing down from the task.

Snape opened the door slowly, peering out into the dark. He looked down and saw the two standing there, and a dark frown flickered over his face. He opened the door wider.

"Can I help you?" he said in a low, sneering voice.

"It- it's Harry," Ginny said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"He's asking for you," Hermione provided, hoping this would mean something to the man standing there. She felt foolish, embarrassed, awkward, to be saying such things and having him looking back at her in contempt.

Snape looked them over quickly, as though evaluating the truth of their story, and then brusquely stepped out into the hallway, forcing them to move, and shutting the door behind him.

"He is in Gryffindor tower?" He called over his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said as she and Ginny rushed to keep up with him. She and the redhead exchanged confused glances.

"What is it that's happened?"

"We're not entirely sure, sir, but he seems rather shaken…"

Snape gave her an odd look as he looked back at them, his eyes narrowed.

"That is to say," Ginny hurriedly said, "we were woken by Lavender, who was told to by Neville, so we can't be positive what went on… but from the looks of things, he had another nightmare…"

Snape stopped abruptly and opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind the next instant. He resumed walking at an even quicker pace, almost hurrying to Gryffindor tower.

The Potions Master looked rather out of place as he stepped into Gryffindor tower, roughly shoving aside several of the boys as he moved to Harry's bedside. His eyes swept over Harry's trembling form, and an unfamiliar mix of emotions came over him. It calmed him to see the boy, all in one piece and wholly present… and yet he felt his concern reach its peak as he observed the small details of a moistened, pale face, and shaking hands.

He turned to Ron, who was scrutinizing him very closely. "What happened?" He asked, hoping to sound somewhere within the realm of his normal, disdainful self.

"He was screaming- having a fit in his sleep," Ron said, looking over at his friend. "We haven't been able to figure out what-"

"That's all I need to know, Weasley," Severus said, redirecting his attention back to Harry. "Well, get up, Potter. I suppose we'll have to see the headmaster about this… waste a bit _more_ of his time. Come on."

Harry looked at him with a pained expression, but seemed to understand. He weakly pushed himself out of bed, stumbling a bit as he made his way across the room. Severus stopped shortly before they'd reached the door, and addressed the others in the room.

"Everyone here should go back to bed, and speak nothing of this to anyone. That includes the both of you, Miss Granger and Miss Weasley." He aimed a pointed glare at the few defiant faces staring back at him, and then turned and closed the door.

"Hurry up, Potter, I haven't all day- or night, rather."

But silently, a gesture undetected by anyone but the two there, Severus extended an arm to Harry, who gratefully took it, leaning on his father for support as he unsteadily continued down the stairs.

Dumbledore seemed to have anticipated their coming, because he met them at the stairs leading to the corridor outside of Severus' quarters.

"Severus, Harry," Dumbledore breathed with relief as the two approached. "I hoped- never mind that, Severus, let's get him to your rooms."

Severus gave him a nod, refraining from snapping back that he was clearly already working on that idea. Harry's head had begun to clear at this point, and he was finding walking less and less difficult. Despite this, he smiled and took his father's arm as he reached out to offer it once more.

xxx

"Just sit down," Severus said, helping Harry ease himself onto the bed in his quarters. Dumbledore sat next to him as he propped himself up on a pillow. "I'll get you some tea."

Harry raised his eyebrows in slight surprise at the offer, but said nothing. Dumbledore smiled to himself and patted Harry's knee lightly.

Severus returned shortly, tea in hand, as promised. He handed it to Harry with caution, careful not to spill. He then aimed his wand at the chair across the room, and with a flick, it slid over to him, and he sat.

"What did you see?" Severus asked before Dumbledore could utter what he'd opened his mouth to say.

Harry lowered his cup of tea, staring broodingly into it.

"I wish I could stop having these visions," he said quietly. No one spoke for a moment, and he looked back up. "It was a small village- mostly wizard, I think…. He said, 'they will know'."

"Too late?" Dumbledore clarified quietly. Harry nodded. Dumbledore looked solemnly at Severus, and said, "Well, perhaps we should alert order members, see if they can't survey the area before-"

"How can you be so calm about this?" Harry broke in, frowning.

"This happens every day now, Harry," Severus said, rising from his seat. "At some point, you have to stop being so passionate about every life lost- it becomes too tiring."

"It's too tiring to care?" Harry repeated disdainfully.

Dumbledore rose now, following Severus. "You know we do what we can, Harry," he said. Harry frowned even more deeply. "Severus, I need to speak with you."

The door was closed after them, and it was quiet for a long time. Harry lay in bed, listening hard, hoping to hear something- anything at all- of what they were saying. When he was sure they wouldn't come back into the room, he quietly slipped out of bed and padded over to the door, pressing his ear to the space between the floor and the door. He could hear them talking quietly.

"Severus-" it was Dumbledore's voice. "He's stopped trusting you with information. You're going to have to realize, sooner or later, that your position as spy is now doing us more harm than-"

"Harm?" Severus snarled, clearly offended. "How have I caused you any harm?"

There was a short pause. Harry could imagine Dumbledore was taking a long, steadying breath. "You're going to do Harry harm, if something happens to you."

"Well that's a risk I'll have to take- and he understands that. What do you think he would say of me, if I were to give up the one position that does the light some good, simply to save my own skin?"

"I very much doubt he thinks of you that way," Dumbledore said admonishingly.

"Well, then enlighten me. How does he think of me?"

"As a godsend," Dumbledore said quietly. Severus didn't respond. "He gets this strange- almost grateful look on his face every time you do something kind for him. I think he's- hopeful- for the future."

"There won't be a future if we don't do everything in our power-"

"There won't be a future if he doesn't have someone to keep him going," Dumbledore said.

"Why does it always come back to this?" Severus barked impatiently.

On the other side of the door, the intensity of Severus' voice peeked Harry's curiosity. Eager to hear what the two men were arguing about, Harry rose from the bed and moved quickly to the door. He leaned closer, unwittingly placing his hand on the door knob for support. Pressing his ear against the door, he heard Severus speaking ardently to the Headmaster.

"I'm not giving it up. You can't force me to-"

As Harry quickly learned, he would have been better off staying in bed. As he pressed his ear more firmly to the door and leaned against it, he unintentionally turned the door knob and spilled into the next room, stumbling into it abruptly. Severus and Dumbledore turned swiftly to stare at him as he steadied on his feet and looked at the two of them bashfully, his cheeks tinged with red.

"Were you listening in on us?" Severus asked, his eyes narrowed and his voice cold and intimidating.

Harry hesitated to answer. Snape looked so very threatening now, standing with his dark eyes glittering and black hair falling into his face, shadowing his features.

"Why do you keep going back?" He asked, indirectly answering Snape's question and instantly regretted doing so as Severus crossed his arms and sent a glare at Dumbledore. He looked annoyed.

"Because," Dumbledore said, "he feels that he's doing us more good risking his life than he is in saving it."

"I can't simply give up the position that has helped us so much over these past years!" Severus exclaimed defensively, his intense eyes turned on Dumbledore once again. "You keep insisting that I would be of more assistance if I were to give it up, but I can hardly see how."

"He's right!" Harry said, stepping closer now. "What good is it if you-"

"It would be selfish," Severus said in a harsher voice, turning on Harry, "to do anything otherwise. You, of all people, should realize that!"

"Fine," Harry snapped. "Do what you want, I don't care. But don't expect me to get close to someone who doesn't care enough to prevent me the grief of losing that." Harry turned and headed for his room, not caring what else Snape had to say. He was tired, and he'd already been through a lot. All he wanted was some peace, some time to himself.

"I can't promise perfection, if that's what you expect," Severus called after him.

Harry stopped and rounded on him, abandoning his pursuit of solitude. "I don't need perfection!" he yelled, using his best effort to keep his voice from cracking. "I just need effort! I just need some kind of father, _even_ if it's only your best attempt."

Severus raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. "Somehow," he drawled, "I doubt that my best attempt would be good enough for someone like you."

"Someone like me? What, you think I've had such a wonderful life that my standards are set too high for you to reach? You want to know how I grew up? Until my letter to Hogwarts came, do you know that I lived in a cupboard under the stairs, while my cousin had _two_ bedrooms? Do you know that I was expected to cook them breakfast and clean their house from the time I was eight, even though I wasn't allowed to eat more than a slice of toast or sit in the rooms that I tidied? Do you know how many times I was told how worthless I was, or how often they turned a blind eye to my needs to reinforce that? Do you honestly think anything anyone gives me is ever a letdown after all that? I would be grateful- hell, I am grateful that you've simply acknowledged me. But one might expect that to lead to something else… one might expect someone in your position to make a noticeable attempt at changing. But you're still unable to let go of your previous misconceptions of me! I know you never knew what went on in my life before, but I'd think that after finding out, it might change _some_ of your ideas."

Severus looked at him for a moment, his expression wavering. Then, running a hand over his face, he sighed. "I never knew the extent of all that happened, but yes, after your fifth year, I had an idea."

"And still you hated me? Still you thought me some spoiled-"

"No!" Severus said, eyes widened threateningly. "That was never the reason I disliked you, and you should know that by now. I may have used it as an excuse, yes, but did you not notice a regression in my spite towards you for a short while after I'd learned how wrong that theory was?"

Harry frowned at him, shifting his eyes to the floor as he mumbled a grudging, "No."

Severus raised an eyebrow at him. "Surprise, surprise," he said flatly.

"Oh, don't give me that," Harry scoffed, returning his gaze to Snape. "You think you've been much better?"

"My behavior is not the one that needs to be evaluated!"

"Are you serious? You've been ten times wor-"

"I am the adult! You forget your place, Harry! You are the child, and what you have to say about me doesn't-"

"Silence, both of you!" Dumbledore shouted. Up until this point, he had been stayed silent on the sidelines, allowing the two to have it out. "You're both being ridiculously childish!"

Harry and Severus had both stopped and whipped their heads around to face Dumbledore, and were now staring at him.

"Harry, you have a very bad habit of arguing and talking back, I am going to agree with your father on that account," Dumbledore said. His voice was lowered now, but it was still firm and commanding of the situation. "And Severus, you're right- you are the adult, he is the child. But I think that this situation warrants some different respects, on both of your parts. There is much to be worked out between you two, and if you ever have any hope of getting along, I would suggest that you stop being so hard headed, open up your ears, and listen to each other. How else are you supposed to understand one another? How else can you learn to be father and son?"

Dumbledore looked at them both for a moment, before standing and picking up his cloak.

"I am leaving," he said. "And I hope that the two of you will talk, and do it rationally. Severus, stop by my office tomorrow, if you find the time."

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN:

Hope you liked the chapter : )

So who else is excited for the release of Goblet of Fire! Here's hoping it's not too butchered, though… but I'm going to the midnight showing! YES! chants to self _November 18, 2005, November 18, 2005_… …yeah… I mean just kidding. looks around innocently

I love you all platonically.


	26. Reaction

Chapter 26

Reaction

xxx

Dumbledore left, and Severus turned to Harry, face stubbornly unchanging as he said, "I'm leaving for the Dark Lord's mission in a month. What you choose to do about it in that time is your own decision, but I warn you now, my plans will not change."

Severus turned, heading towards the couch, and Harry followed, speaking after him. "So you don't care? You really won't care if I come to you and say-"

Severus cut him off. "I won't make promises I don't intend to keep!" But he realized, by the expression on Harry's face, that perhaps his words had been too harsh. He closed his eyes and ran his hand over his face, sitting down on the couch. He looked thoughtfully at Harry, who was frowning at him, and sighed. "I'm trying to change, I am- but it will take time. Perhaps my priorities will shift in the coming months- perhaps not. It all depends on variables that I cannot yet determine."

Harry stared blankly at him for a moment, vaguely attempting to comprehend what had just been said to him. Severus held back a smirk, amused slightly by the boyish look of confusion on his face.

"Harry," he said more gently, sitting forward. "For now, this is what I need to do. I think you, of all children-"

"I'm not a child," said Harry darkly, and Severus actually smiled.

"No," Severus said. "You're not. So surely you understand the concept of making difficult choices?"

"It was the wrong decision in the first place!" Harry argued. He sounded more upset about the situation than Severus would have expected; it made it all the more difficult to reason with him.

"And now I'm paying for that," Severus said quietly. "This was never the way I wanted to spend my life- torn between two sides. I wanted to spend it with- my wife…" he choked on these words. It sounded strange to hear them spoken aloud; he'd spent an inordinate amount of time thinking them, but had never dared to utter such thoughts to another living soul. He'd kept that part of himself so protected, especially since her death. "I wanted us to be happy, to- I don't know what I thought I was accomplishing. But it didn't turn out the way I'd planned, I know that. I'd spent my whole life taking the easy way out; I finally reached the point where it made my life harder, I suppose. Extremely… inopportune time for me to finally get my comeuppance." A bitter laugh escaped him, and he shook his head.

"So now I have to be caught in the middle of all of this? I have to pay for your mistakes?" Harry questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"I _am_ sorry," Severus said. He knew it sounded unsympathetic, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything more. He couldn't risk telling Harry he would do something that he would later regret. He needed time, and a better reason to give up the job he'd known for so long. He couldn't risk taking what seemed like the easy way out… again. But he wouldn't expect this boy to understand that. "Go to bed," Severus finally said, standing. "You look tired, and I'm sure you don't want to draw attention to yourself by missing classes tomorrow."

Harry noticed, with no small amount of relief, that the older man's voice was completely lacking in sarcasm. He allowed himself to be guided towards the room he'd gone to when he'd arrived, and admittedly, was glad to have his head hit the pillow. He was very tired; curiously, he hadn't noticed, but Severus had. He found that strangely… comforting.

Severus didn't say another word as he left the room, but he did pause as he shut the door, considering Harry for a moment with a softened expression on his face. Harry didn't see- but he could feel his father's gaze resting on him; for once, it didn't make him uncomfortable or anxious.

xxx

Harry awoke early the next morning- earlier than usual. He considered the fact that he was in a strange place, which was most likely the underlying reason for the difference in timing. He lay in his bed for a few moments, deciding whether or not it was smart to leave.

Coming to the conclusion that he wouldn't soon fall back asleep, Harry kicked off his blankets and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He realized, as the cold air touched his bare feet, that he didn't have his dressing robe or slippers. He looked around hopelessly, but saw nothing that would help him.

Harry had to squint hard against the surprisingly bright light that greeted his eyes as he stepped out into the main room. It took only a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, he looked around, taking everything in. A fair quantity of candles was lit, and Severus was sitting at his desk, seemingly looking over papers. Harry looked to the couch, and realized Severus had slept out here; there were still several blankets and a flattened pillow lying on the surface of the black couch.

"You're up early," Severus commented from across the room. "No more nightmares, I hope?"

"No, I slept fine," Harry said, pulling his sleeves over his knuckles.

"There are some blankets there on the couch, if you're cold," Severus said flatly, raising an eyebrow as he saw Harry's apparent discomfort.

Harry nodded and moved towards the pile, selecting a fuzzy, khaki colored one and wrapping it around himself. "What're you doing?" he asked, stifling a yawn and settling himself the couch nearest to Severus' desk.

"Oh, just grading more papers," Severus said dully, marking up a new essay. "Story of my life."

"From what you've told me," Harry said, with some hint of irony, "Your life involves much more than grading papers."

Severus inclined his head at that. "This is true," he said.

He waited a moment before speaking again. Harry watched him intently from across the room, examining his face for any kind of emotion. As always, however, he was completely unreadable- like the blank page of a diary. Severus looked back up at him.

"I was a bit- ah- surprised…" he paused shortly, considering Harry. "That you requested me last night."

Harry tried to smile. "I was surprised you came."

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Well, it was a bit hard to ignore the two students who showed up at my door in the middle of the night …" he tapered off, but gave Harry an almost imperceptible look of inquiry.

Harry shrugged. "It just felt right." Severus' expression changed and Harry shifted uncomfortably on the couch, pulling his blanket tighter around himself, and said, "Not many people understand what it's like… to constantly be under his control. No one knows what it's like to constantly feel linked to him… to feel, overpowered, by him."

Severus watched him, his brows furrowed, and then rose from his seat. He came to Harry, and the boy looked up at him. After a moment of indecision, Severus took a seat next to him on the couch, placing a hand on the boy's frail shoulder. "Harry, you are not being controlled by him…" He took a bracing breath, "You're too good for that."

"Then why is he constantly there? Why does he have the ability to-"

"An involuntary connection does not taint you, Harry, no matter what some may think. Have you ever done anything according to will other than your own?"

"No," said Harry quietly.

"Then he most certainly isn't controlling you. He can only tempt you- only feed you bits of information. He thinks he knows you… he's wrong. You know that. As long as you remain as strong as you have repeatedly proven yourself to be…" Severus paused here. "Oh, listen to me," he said, curling his lip, and Harry laughed despite himself. "But the point is not to let this overcome you. You never chose to be a part of him- and it's the choice that determines his level of control."

xxx

The first lesson that day happened to be, by unlucky chance, Potions. Harry had left his father's rooms very early and returned to Gryffindor tower, slipping into his bed and pretending to be asleep before any of the boys in his dorm could question him about the previous night.

He was not so fortunate to escape the attention the coming day brought him, however. Despite the fact that only a few Gryffindors had been there to witness Harry's renewal of fitfully awakening during the night, it seemed now to have spread throughout the school by the next morning.

Harry was relieved to finally get away from the crowded great hall for class after breakfast. Hermione strode with him out of the Great Hall, her arm linked with his, sending frightening glares to the brave students who dared to stare at her friend. Ron was back at the breakfast table, telling off a now very frightened first year for flinging his porridge at the back of Lavender Brown's head.

They had to make a quick visit to Gryffindor tower for Hermione's forgotten Potions book, but were nevertheless early to get to the dungeons. Harry had not yet been down here since the school year had started a week ago, and despite his changed relationship with the Potions Master, he couldn't rid his stomach of the anxiety swimming within it.

The door was cracked open. Hermione placed her hand on the black, steely handle and turned to look at Harry, her eyebrows furrowed in a worried, piteous sort of way. Harry nodded once, swallowing, and she pulled the door open.

As they stepped inside, they saw that they weren't the first ones there. In fact, it looked as though nearly half of the class was there, and everyone was sitting quietly at his or her desk, looking around in trepidation. Potions were already simmering, their warm, inviting vapors drifting across the room; there were various colors rising from the line of cauldrons in the front, dancing in front of Harry's eyes. Harry swallowed nervously again and looked at Hermione, whose eyes were all lit up as she fumbled around in her bag for a piece of parchment and quill, and then moved closer to the potions, taking observations on every one. Harry released an almost silent groan and wished Ron was there; class hadn't even started yet and already Hermione was getting to work. Harry settled himself grumpily next to the seat she had left her bag in and looked around.

So far, Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors present in the room. Over in the far left sat Blaise Zabini, with his feet resting atop the desk and with a book in each of the three seats around him. Harry took this as a sign that three more Slytherins would soon be joining them. In front of the place where he had those seat reserved were Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbot, and another spot that Harry presumed to be for Justin Finch-Fletchey, since he'd heard Susan Bones was no good at Potions and most Hufflepuffs were absolutely petrified of Snape. And behind Harry sat Padma Patil, with an empty seat that was most likely for her sister, Parvati, and another two rows of Ravenclaws, all sitting and talking quietly amongst each other. Harry turned around and shook his head, watching Hermione now as she moved excitedly from cauldron to cauldron.

Harry heard the door open, and turned to see who had just come in. To his surprise, it was Snape; he wouldn't have guessed so, as there had been no slamming of the door. Snape stood still for a moment, eyes locked on Hermione with his eyes narrowed and lip curled, and then started for the front of the room.

"Miss Granger," he said silkily from behind her. The class went completely silent as all eyes turned to him, and she froze. "May I ask what you are doing?"

Hermione turned around and looked up at her Professor. "I- I was just- er- taking observations, sir."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Did I ask you to make observations?"

"Well, no, sir, but-"

"I see no one else up here, taking notes on my work."

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't think-"

"How disappointing," Snape said over Hermione. "I suggest you think harder, Miss Granger. After all, your intellectual capacity much stretch to the other two miscreants you pathetically call your friends." He glanced disgustedly at Harry, and then back at Hermione. "Go sit down," he hissed, jerking his head over his shoulder.

"Yes sir," Hermione said timidly, hurrying back to her seat. Over in the corner, Blaise was sniggering softly with another Slytherin girl who had only just entered the room. Hermione looked over at them, and then back down at her paper, trying not to blush.

Harry was glaring hard at Snape. He could take the abuse himself; knowing what was going on between the two of them, he could take it. But it was harder for him to watch his friend be made a fool of, and he found that less excusable.

Snape soon became aware of Harry's furious eyes resting on him, and looked up. Harry quickly shifted his eyes, wishing Snape hadn't seen, but he knew it was too late. Snape stepped down and towards Harry's desk. "Is there something I can help you with, Potter?" Snape sneered, crossing his arms.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy walk in with the stream of other students as the bell rang, an eager look developing on his face as he looked back and forth between Snape and Harry.

Harry took a deep breath and returned his gaze to meet Snape's, holding his expression firm and strong. "I don't see anything wrong with what Hermione was doing," he said. "And I think it's unfair that you shouted at her for it."

"I don't remember shouting," Snape said, eyebrows raised. Harry rolled his eyes, and Snape's widened. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me," he said warningly, placing his hands on the desk. "We have a long year ahead of us, Potter, if you can't learn to hold your tongue and keep a respectful face around me.

"Yes sir," Harry said, his glare darkening. Snape held his gaze for a moment more, then turned away and went back to his board to write instructions for their assignment that day.

"Potter," Malfoy hissed from the corner, once Snape's back was completely turned. Harry ignored him. "_Potter!_" Draco hissed with more urgency, and Harry turned to him with annoyance etched in every line of his face.

"What?" Harry mouthed in irritation.

"_Silence_," Snape said warningly from the front of the room. "The bell rang, did it not? You may have forgotten over the holiday, mindless as you are, so I'll remind you of this simple rule: I won't tolerate mindless chatter while class is in session."

Harry and Draco both stared at Snape's back, frustrated looks on their faces. Harry turned to Draco again, and mouthed "What?" one more time.

Draco cast a furtive look in Snape's direction, and then began to mouth some indiscernible words that made Harry squint in confusion. He went on doing this for a few more moments before realizing how pointless it was and waving Harry off as Snape finished writing instructions and turned back to the class.

"The instructions are on the board," Snape said dully, leaning on his desk. "You will notice that I've left very specific instructions; so be sure to follow them carefully. You have until the end of the class period, and then you will turn in whatever sample you've managed to come up with. Oh- and we have an even number of students in this class?" He paused and counted heads quickly, scanning the room for missing faces, and then nodded to himself. "Yes- you will be working in a number of partner assignments this year. This happens to be one of them. I hope you've all chosen seats next to the person you desire to work with, because that is your place for the rest of the year."

Snape looked them over for another moment, his eyes resting contemplatively on Harry and Hermione for a moment. Harry feared he would split them up- he needed her if he was going to pass this year. However, Snape seemed to decide against it, and went back to his desk. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and shared a small smile with Hermione.

"Right," Hermione said softly, a bit relieved as well. "Would you rather dice the Tubeworms or the leeches?"

Harry wrinkled his nose at the jars she was holding up, and chose the one filled with the tubeworms.

Hermione looked at the leeches. "Good choice," she said miserably.

An hour later, when Harry had slime worked into the deepest crevices of his fingernails and Hermione's arm was about ready to fall off from the hundred consistent strokes she'd had to give the Potion, they finally achieved the results the book said to expect. Leaning over the silver cauldron, Harry saw with great satisfaction that their potion had turned to a liquid, shimmering pool of black and was emitting silver clouds of mist from the surface.

"Sir," Hermione said, putting her hand up. Snape turned and headed towards their table. "I think we're done," she said unnecessarily as he peered shrewdly into the potion.

"Yes, yes, that'll do," Snape said dismissively, turning and stalking over to the Hufflepuffs to inspect their work.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a satisfied grin, and Hermione filled a small glass vial with a sample of their potion.

As Harry watched Hermione place their assignment in the designated rack, he felt a light blow to the arm, and looked down. On the floor was a crumpled piece of parchment. He looked over at Draco, who nodded, and reached over to pick it up. He debated unfolding it, but thought better of it as he saw Snape peering suspiciously over at him. He put the paper into his bag and started on the written portion of their homework.

He was almost able to finish by the end of class, and resigned himself to finishing the assignment at lunch, not knowing what other homework he would be charged with by the end of the day. He and Hermione gathered their things as class was dismissed and headed for the third floor, where they were meeting Ron.

As he'd promised, Ron was indeed waiting outside the classroom to International Interpretations. He was easily spotted from the other end of the corridor; he had his arms crossed and was leaning nonchalantly against the wall, ruffling a hand through his bright red Weasley hair. Harry thought he looked quite ridiculous. Hermione seemed to agree, but smiled amiably at him anyways.

"Apparently, McGonagall teaches this class," Ron said quietly to the both of them, meeting them as they came closer.

"Oh good!" said Hermione, just as Harry released a groan of disappointment.

"You don't like her?" she asked, appalled.

"Yeah, she's fine," Harry said. "But if I have to endure Snape, then McGonagall every Tuesday…"

"Well, I've just had a double block of her last class, Harry, so I don't know what you're complaining about," Ron said.

Harry frowned and followed the other two into the classroom; he was sure Ron would rather have McGonagall than Snape any day, but didn't say so. He preferred to stay away from that topic.

Harry was rather pleased to find out that this class involved much more bookwork and less teaching, which allowed for casual conversation between him and his friends. They spent a majority of the time working anyways, due to the heavy workload McGonagall gave them, but it was more enjoyable than sitting in complete silence, listening to lectures.

"I can't join you for lunch," Hermione said breathlessly as they made their way down the stairs. "I've a load of Arithmancy homework, coupled with the Defense assignment we got yesterday-"

"So you're going to the Library?" Ron said disgustedly, looking over at Harry.

"_Yes_," said Hermione. "And you should consider doing the same. We've got N.E.W.T.s in a year, and you'd be best off not to fall behind so early-"

"Hermione, we're not falling behind; we've only been in school a week," Harry said, jabbing Ron in the ribs before Hermione could see the impression he was doing of her.

"Well," Hermione said indignantly. "You'll wish you'd come with me when you're spending all your free periods working in the common room." She looked back and forth between them and shook her head. "I'll see you two after lunch."

And with that she stomped off in the direction of the library, leaving Harry and Ron standing there, a bit bewildered.

"Something's bothering her," Harry said, shaking his head. "She's not normally that mental."

"Yeah, well… that's Hermione for you," Ron said, shrugging. "You know, I'm not very hungry."

Harry now turned to him, looking astonished. "_You're_ not hungry?"

"No," Ron said in what was apparently supposed to be a casual tone. "What say we go down to the lake, see what's going on there?"

Harry looked at him doubtingly for a moment. "Alright…" he said, following his best friend to the doors.

The September air was getting more chilly every day, yet in their school uniforms, the boys were warm enough. The grounds were relatively quiet for the moment; most of the students were taking lunch in the Great Hall.

"So," Ron said as they settled themselves on the deserted grounds, next to the lake. "You're having visions again?"

Harry looked at him questioningly, wondering what he was getting at. "Well, I had one… but I don't know if it'll happen again."

"I thought you'd conquered Occlumency by now," said Ron, peeling a banana he'd pulled from his bag. "I mean, you spent a lot of time with Snape this summer, didn't you?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. Ron looked back at him, his expression stony and hard; it was a look Harry hadn't seen on his friends face since the Yule Ball in fourth year. "Ron, if there's something you have to say, just say it."

Ron lowered his hand, which he'd raised to take a bite. "You asked for Snape the other night."

There was a pause.

"So?" Harry said uncomfortably.

"You called him _Severus_," Ron said, and he couldn't hide the note of accusation in his voice. "You'd have to have got… pretty close… to call him by his first name." He was frowning deeply now, his nose slightly wrinkled in apparent disgust.

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked disbelievingly, in amazement that Ron would even suggest what he seemed to be.

"I think you know," Ron responded, watching Harry closely for a reaction. "I mean, you've always hated the git-and for good reason, too. Now all of a sudden you're best friends with him?"

"Well it's nothing like that!" Harry exclaimed, scrambling to his feet. He felt as though he'd been led into a trap, and was somewhat betrayed by Ron's assumption. "I- what gives you the right to-"

"Well if it's nothing like that then what is it?" Ron retorted brashly, getting to his feet as well. His ears were red with embarrassment, and he looked almost hurt, though Harry couldn't really understand why. "I mean, bloody hell, what am I supposed to think? _Severus? _And not to mention, you haven't mentioned anything about him since you returned to Hogwarts. Not a word. Not a, _"Hey everyone, Snape is surprisingly being nice to me this year!"_ or a, _"Funny story, Snape told me to call him by his first name"_... nothing. If you have nothing to be ashamed of, why have you been hiding so many things?"

Harry glared murderously at his friend. "It's nothing you would understand."

"Nothing I would understand?" Ron repeated, taken aback. He turned his head, looking away, and then back at Harry. "Harry, I've made errors in judgment a few times, yeah- but nothing so bad you shouldn't be able to tell me what's going on…"

"Well you seem pretty irrational about what you've guessed so far," said Harry folding his arms. "So how do I know that?"

"Well think about what I guessed, Harry," said Ron, shrugging slowly. He seemed to be trying to make up for what he'd said before by keeping his temper. "Listen, Hermione and I have both noticed a change in you- something's wrong, or at least different. Did you think you could hide this from us, whatever it is? We know you better than that… at least I'd think so."

Harry stared at him. Could he really trust Ron with this information? Could he trust that his friend would not abandon him at hearing the shocking news? He sat down again, staring out across the lake, and folding his knees to his chest. "What if I told you I'm not exactly the boy you thought you knew?"

Ron hesitated. "… I suppose I'd have to ask how that's true," he said dubiously, sitting down next to Harry.

Harry continued to gaze over the rippling waters of the lake, silently deliberating. But Ron was right… he couldn't keep this from his friends forever.

"Listen, before I explain this to you, you have to promise me you won't breathe a word of it to _anyone_," Harry said seriously. Ron nodded fervently, and Harry reiterated, "I mean _no one_. It would be dangerous if anyone else found out what I'm about to tell you."

"Harry," said Ron, as if he didn't believe he was really in for that great of a surprise. "You've been able to trust us before, haven't you?"

Something about the tone of Ron's voice sent a surge of renewed frustration through Harry. Here he was, about to reveal something so personal, so life-changing, and Ron was acting as though Harry was being melodramatic, as if what he had to say was as mundane as the knowledge of what they would be eating for dinner.

"James was not my father," Harry said quietly, avoiding Ron's eyes as he said it. He picked up the nearest twig and began to peel the bark off, flicking it toward the lake.

A second passed and he glanced sidelong at his friend to check his reaction. Ron's jaw had dropped and he was gaping at him in disbelief. "What?"

Harry looked away again, wincing at Ron's somewhat harsh tone. "My mother was married to Snape before James… no one but she and Dumbledore knew until about a month ago-"

"You mean you found this out a month ago, and you still haven't told me- us!" Ron exclaimed in astonishment, anger taking the place of shock in his expression as he rose again to his feet.

"It was only a few weeks back, thank you!" Harry replied defensively, growing frustrated. He lost sight of the explanation he had been ready to offer Ron, and responded, "And you know, it's not really the sort of thing you chat to your friends about while sitting around table… there hasn't been a good time to-"

"Well you should have made time!" Ron interjected, breathing heavily and balling his fists at his side.

Harry stared at Ron for a moment. He had expected Ron to be angry about his relation to Snape- not the fact that Harry hadn't mentioned it yet. "This isn't easy for me, either, Ron," Harry said in a shaky, low voice. He shook his head, stood, and began pacing back and forth.

"Well, apparently," exclaimed Ron indignantly, "it has, since you're already on a first name basis with the git! What, is he your new best friend now? All of a sudden you find out you share a bit of blood and he becomes more important than we are?"

Harry rounded violently on Ron. "I knew- _knew_- that you would overreact, and that's why I've been biding my time. I'm still trying to get over the shock of it myself, do you think I wanted a temperamental hothead like you to deal with as well?"

Ron looked truly insulted now; his eyes were flashing and his skin almost matched his maroon sweater, but he tried with great effort not to lose his temper. "It's not the fact that Snape's your father that I'm angry about. We have been friends," he said with restraint, "for five years. I have invited you into my home and accepted you as part of my family because I knew how much you needed one. I thought that meant more to you than the fact that I lose my temper once in awhile. But now, I'd wager I was wrong."

Harry opened and closed his mouth, taken aback to the greatest measure. Ron's words stung him, he couldn't lie… because he was right. He had been a good friend to Harry, even if he didn't seem the most understanding person.

"Ron, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

"No, it's fine- don't apologize," Ron muttered grudgingly, sending an abrasive glance in Harry's direction, and shaking his head in still apparent disbelief. "I'm going back up to the castle."

Ron didn't wait for a response; he forcefully slung his bag over his shoulder and began to climb up the grounds towards the school, leaving Harry standing behind, watching him. Harry waited for him to disappear, and then turned and aimed a forceful kick at his own bag, sending its contents sprawling across the ground.

He groaned and brought a hand up to his forehead, pressing his fingers into it and trying to get his thoughts in order. He didn't know how he and Ron would make up, but he knew they had to- he knew they would. It would just take time…

Harry shook his head, and vaguely remembering the note from Malfoy, reached into his bag and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper that had been thrown at him. Now seemed the an ideal time to look at it with no one else around, and he needed something to take his mind off of Ron...

He unfolded the parchment and squinted down at it. Written in very small letters were the words, "Meet me in the Potion's Classroom tomorrow at 6:30- morning."

xxx end chapter 26 xxx

Thanks so much to my wonderful betas **Cithara** and **Rlmess**, they are amazing, as you all should know.

Thanks to **purpleygirl** who was reviewer 550!

Thanks so much for all your reviews! I will always answer reviews when given something to respond to- comments, questions- so if you have any of the aforementioned, go ahead. I'll answer as best as I can.

I love you all platonically!


	27. Hope

Chapter 27

Hope

xxx

At first glance, the note received from Draco Malfoy seemed suspicious. What could he possibly have to say to Harry that he couldn't say during the day? And if it was something so secret, why would he be so keen to let Harry in on it? Secondly, meeting Malfoy had never turned out well before; in years past, it had always been a trap of some sort. Curiosity got the best of Harry, however; the idea of meeting Draco Malfoy became more and more appealing as the night wore on. Every once in a while he unwrinkled the note again and stared at the words Malfoy had written on the parchment, contemplating the best course of action. If he were going to meet him, he decided, he would have to tell someone. It wouldn't do to go running off without a backup plan… but whom would he tell?

His answer arrived late that night, as Ginny Weasley climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, hello Harry," she said slightly breathlessly, pulling a leaf from her long, messy hair.

"Where were you?" Harry queried, sounding somewhat amused. Was this the same quiet girl that'd been scared of him during his second year, sneaking out late at night?

Ginny smiled sheepishly and sat in the chair across from him, scooting closer to the hearth and warming her hands in the heat emanating from the brightly burning fire. "Oh, you know, wandering the grounds…" she said evasively, fixing her eyes on the glowing embers. She looked over at Harry, who was feigning a reproachful expression, trying to look as though he disapproved. "Oh, don't give me that," Ginny snipped in response. "You've been doing it since first year, and I'm in my fifth."

"Well, I didn't go alone," he answered back, looking down at his book to hide his smile.

"Neither did I," Ginny contested, and Harry looked up at her. Their eyes met for a moment; she looked away, finger combing her hair. "What are you doing up so late?"

"Homework," replied Harry, indicating the book in his lap.

"Looks like you got far," Ginny said flatly, glancing at his blank parchment. He gave her a dramatic glare, and she smirked back at him. "What subject?"

"Law," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Mmm," Ginny murmured, nodding and trying in jest to look sympathetic.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, smiling and closing the book. He set it on the table in front of him and turned to Ginny. "Tell me, can I trust you?"

"What?" Ginny responded, looking confused.

"Just answer the question."

"Well- yeah," she tailed off, narrowing her eyes.

"So if I told you something just because I need to tell someone- I mean…" Harry paused and took a breath. "I have to do something tomorrow morning, and I'm going alone- but I think someone should know where I am…" he broke off, not knowing how to explain the situation without giving it all away.

"Harry, forget trying to explain _what_ you're asking, I know _what kind_ of question you're asking," said Ginny, waving at him to be quiet. "Yes, you can trust me."

"Alright," Harry said, hardly surprised by her response. "I'm meeting Draco Malfoy in the Potions classroom at six-thirty tomorrow morning. I expect to be back by a quarter past seven… if I'm not, get your brother or Hermione and come look for me. If you can't find me…"

"We'll find you, Harry," Ginny said, though she still looked puzzled, "Don't worry about it. I know what to do."

"Thanks," Harry said, relieved.

"Don't mention it," Ginny said, getting up and setting the pillow back on the chair. "But if you'll excuse me, it's been a long day, and I think Filch might have gone to McGonagall about me… so if she comes up here, I've been in bed the whole time, alright?"

Harry laughed. "Sure thing."

"Good," Ginny said, smiling back from the bottom of the stairs. "Well, night."

"Night," Harry called after her as she disappeared from sight.

xxx

Getting out of Gryffindor tower unnoticed the next morning was not such an easy task. Harry had already anticipated having to leave his dorm room in absolute silence, but he hadn't expected Hermione to be sitting down in the common room, working away on Arithmancy.

"Harry," Hermione said, sounding pleased as she looked up and saw him descend from the stairs. "You're up early. No more dreams, I hope?"

"No, I slept fine," Harry said, pulling on his shoes.

Hermione frowned slightly, looking offended at his dismissive tone. "Where are you going?" She asked inquisitively, setting down her quill.

"Oh, I need to… talk to Dumbledore about something," Harry said, wincing inwardly; he knew he was caught. Apprehending the wisdom in leaving before Hermione had time to work out what was going on, he turned and headed for the portrait hole.

"Oh," Hermione said awkwardly, nodding and looking off to the side. She didn't seem to notice that he was walking away from her. "Harry, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Harry froze for a moment, cursing silently, and then turned his head to look at her. Her warm brown eyes, sitting under her brow wrinkled with worry, were almost pleading with him now. He looked at her with a pained expression for a moment, and she drew a breath to speak.

"Listen, I-"

"Don't mean to pry?" Harry cut her off, raising his eyebrows.

Her mouth was still open, half formed around the word she'd been about to say. She looked at him for a moment, and then closed it. "I was going to say I care about you…" she said softly, looking down again. "It's just- things haven't been the same this year. I knew th- that after last year… what I mean to say is-" she stopped again, looking completely at a loss to explain what she was feeling. "I'm worried. I understand you're going through something… really awful this year and… well, I want you to know I'm here. If you need to talk…"

"I think," Harry said softly, "That I'm having a much better time now, dealing with his- his death. What I'm dealing with now is… completely different."

"Oh…"

"Listen, I've really got to go, but I'll be back soon." Harry considered Hermione for a moment, who was still looking down at her hands. "There's a lot I have to tell you."

Receiving an understanding nod from Hermione, Harry then disappeared out the portrait hole, hoping he wasn't too late to meet Malfoy. He pulled out his map and glanced over it quickly. Filch was out on the grounds, near Hagrid's hut. Dumbledore was sitting in his office, and Severus was in his room. Harry rushed forward towards the dungeons, hoping none of them would change positions before he could get there.

Malfoy was sitting atop a desk in the Potions classroom, waiting there as promised. He sat with a bored expression on his face, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head. His feet were kicked out in front of him, one ankle crossed over the other; it was an almost poised look of relaxed arrogance.

"You're late," Malfoy commented, failing to move a muscle as Harry came through the door.

"I noticed," Harry replied dryly, observing Malfoy in annoyance.

Malfoy slowly turned his head, looking Harry up and down in apparent distaste. "I have to ask myself," he said coldly, "Why I keep doing this. What is this now, the second time I've helped you?"

Harry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How're you planning to help me now?"

"Well, I'm not really doing it to help you…" Malfoy said thoughtfully, nodding his head to the side. "It's more to do with Professor Snape… but then, that does concern you, now doesn't it?"

Harry was sure he felt his heart skip a beat. "What do you mean?" he asked, keeping his voice as even and neutral as possible.

Malfoy smirked gloatingly, gazing at Harry with his grey eyes full of amusement and contempt. He fixed Harry with this stare for a few more seconds, and then slowly pushed himself off the desk.

"I know your secret," Malfoy said, taking a few steps towards Harry as he spoke. "And I'm not the only one."

"What secret?" Harry asked in a low, calm voice, his pulse quickening now.

"You're not really a Potter," Malfoy said in a low, almost delighted voice. He was standing directly in front of Harry now.

"How do you know that?" asked Harry accusatorily; he could tell by the look in Malfoy's eyes that he wasn't lying.

"My father told me," Malfoy said, his smirk widening now.

"You- your father?" Harry stammered, his eyes widening into an expression of fierce anxiety.

"Yeah," Malfoy said. "And you know who told him?"

Harry eyes widened; his breath caught in his throat, and a wave of fear rolled over him. And he couldn't quite explain this to himself. He knew he didn't want Severus to be harmed, and he knew why he felt that way- but the strength of his reaction surprised him.

Malfoy watched Harry's face for a moment, inwardly appreciating the horror he was making his adversary face. Maybe now he would know what it felt like to have the imminent prospect of losing a father hovering over him, even if it was only for a moment.

"No, I'm only joking, Potter," Malfoy said in a sardonically sweet voice. "The Dark Lord doesn't know. Well, not yet, anyways. But my father_ does_, and he's just waiting for yours to slip up."

Harry closed his eyes briefly, waiting for his heartbeat to steady. He hated Malfoy; he hated him for this. But as of that moment, he had no other option but to accept Malfoy's behavior, or he would be risking the loss of any hope for information. "So you think," Harry said slowly, "That if I just warn him to be careful-"

Malfoy looked doubtful at that, and shook his head. "I'd keep him close to home, if I were you."

Harry considered Malfoy for a moment as he began erasing evidence of their being there, clearly planning to leave. "I thought Snape and your father were good friends," Harry said, keeping his eyes on the other boy. "Umbridge said last year that he always spoke very highly of Snape at the ministry..."

"Yeah, they get along fine," Malfoy said casually, heading for the door. "But you he's not so fond of... to be honest, Potter, I don't think he cares what he has to sacrifice to get rid of you."

"And you?" Harry challenged, following Malfoy as he walked towards the door. "Why don't you feel the same way?"

"Haven't we been over this, Potter?" Malfoy asked, turning around and glaring irritably at Harry. "I'd rather not discuss it again."

And with that, Malfoy turned and headed out the door, disappearing from sight.

xxx

Harry's mind was still reeling when he entered the common room, but he was somewhat calmed by the sight of Hermione and Ginny sitting together, clearly waiting for him.

The common room was quiet, and they were the only ones awake. The two girls had been engaging in light conversation, but it immediately ceased when Harry arrived.

Without a word of greeting, Harry moved to where they were sitting, taking a seat in a chair across from them. He was acting on an impulse, he knew, but they were going to find out eventually. "You've been wondering what's going on with me lately," Harry said as he sat down. Hermione and Ginny exchanged shocked glances and looked back at him. "I'm going to tell you… but this is something that I need your word you'll keep quiet."

They nodded, frowning slightly. ""Of course, Harry," said Hermione, as Ginny continued nodding.

"Ok," Harry said, drawing a breath. "You have to understand, I would have told you sooner… but I've still been dealing with this on my own.

"James Potter was not the first person to marry my mother."

Gasps escaped from both girls, and they instantly looked ashamed at that. He waved his hand dismissively, thinking that their reactions were hardly surprising.

"Apparently," Harry said, half sighing in distress. Though he'd come to terms with these abstruse insights on his life, he hardly enjoyed reprising them to his friends. "She began seeing someone else during her time at Hogwarts- she was only good friends with James..." he paused, glimpsing the calculating look on Hermione's face. He had an idea that she was slowly beginning to work his story out.

"You keep saying 'James'," Hermione murmured, eyeing Harry carefully. He nodded, averting his gaze from both her and Ginny, who had their gazes locked on him. "Harry, do you mean to say that he's not… James wasn't your father?"

"Not in the biological sense," Harry replied uneasily, feeling his breath catch in his throat.

"Do- do you know who it is?" Ginny apprehensively pressed after a short silence.

"Severus Snape," Harry uttered quietly, his voice so muted by anxiety that it was surprising the two girls had even been able to hear. By their expressions, however, it was apparent that they had. Both their jaws had dropped. Hermione had closed her eyes, seemingly at a loss for words. Ginny looked to be trying to sort the facts inside her head, making sense of everything.

"But he's always been so mean to you-" Ginny said, but she trailed off, not completing the thought.

"That's not all of it," Harry said then, somewhat comforted by her easy tone; unlike Ron's, it held no notes of accusation. "See, she became pregnant while married to Snape- pregnant with me. But before she could tell him… well, they ended their relationship. She begged Dumbledore to keep her secret, which he always has- until this summer.

"Why this summer?" asked Hermione. "Why not earlier, before-"

"He didn't think Snape would make a good father, from what I can gather."

Hermione shook her head. "But couldn't he have tried to give him a chance? Surely growing up with a somewhat brusque father is better than having none at all!"

"But you don't understand," Harry reasoned gently. "Believe me, I've been angry about it too… but I know why he did it. Snape and my mum didn't just split for no good reason-" He broke off, wondering if this was something he ought to be sharing with his friends. He sensed that Severus would be infuriated if he had any idea how much Harry was revealing to his friends.

"Why did they, then?" Ginny asked, and Hermione instantly shot a hard glare at her, one that clearly said the word, _tactless_.

Harry hesitated for a moment. He knew he ought not to answer truthfully… but something about their beseeching gazes and tones made him trust them.

"You can appreciate the fact that my mother was extremely eager to share the news with Sev- Snape," he quickly recovered his verbal slip- he hadn't adjusted to calling Severus by anything except his surname; even in his thoughts he sometimes couldn't think on first name basis with the man- and he had an idea that Ginny and Hermione would be extremely put off by the use of it. "She visited his second home when she found out, since he had been away at the time. What she didn't know was that he had been away to receive his dark mark. I've been told that she saw his Dark Mark during that visit, and in a moment of despair and fright, made up the only lie she could think of to get her out of the relationship. She told him that she'd slept with James, and that she was pregnant because of it. She had hoped that she might go back to him later, and tell him she'd lied, but he reacted more… strongly… than she'd expected. He threw her out of the house- literally. He was, to a degree, quite violent towards her, and she was so shocked by this that she begged Dumbledore never to let me fall into his hands. She seemed to think, at that point, that Snape had…" he stopped mid-sentence. He had been about to say "that Snape had become his father"… but he _knew_ that was too much information to divulge. "That Snape had become a completely different person when he'd turned to Voldemort, and felt he would wreak vengeance on me for her misdeeds if ever given the chance."

There was a long silence. Hermione and Ginny looked somewhat shocked, still, but it was fading from their expressions now. They seemed to be contemplating everything they'd just heard- Harry didn't blame them; it was quite a lot to absorb. And although it had been difficult, reiterating all of this to them, it was somewhat relieving. He felt a vague relief from the pressure of keeping this secret- it was no longer such a burden.

"That's a… very well put together story," Hermione commented.

Harry inclined his head in agreement, though he felt this was an odd thing for her to say at this moment. "Quoted almost directly from Snape and Dumbledore."

"So then, Dumbledore has affirmed the validity of this recalling of events?" Hermione questioned, apparently trying for subtlety.

Harry smiled appreciatively. It was heartening, for some reason, to see that his friends were thinking along the exact same lines he had been when he'd first heard this story. "It's true," Harry said, and his voice wasn't as mournful as he would have expected.

Hermione shook her head. "I still don't understand why Dumbledore would tell you now, of all times…"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn't he have told you earlier?"

"Like I said…" Harry started. "My mother didn't see Severus-" he stopped himself again, but this time Ginny interrupted impatiently.

"You can call him Severus in front of us, you know," she said, and Hermione nodded in agreement. "That's your second time now, it's not as if we don't already know you're thinking it."

Hermione frowned. "It's not really bothersome, I don't know why you seem to think it would offend us."

"Even if it is a bit strange…" Ginny offered, and Hermione shook her head again.

Harry considered them for a moment, assessing the truth of this statement. They seemed sincere, he decided. "From what Dumbledore had been told, Severus wasn't father material, and he was in complete agreement with my mother that he would be horrible to me. He didn't know enough about him, he says. Not until I was about eight did he actually begin to trust and know Severus- but he thought I would be unstable if taken away from my family. He decided to wait till I came to Hogwarts… but given that we didn't react well to each other, he seemed to think it best if we didn't know.

"But now they've discovered there's this potion- I haven't even really been told what it does yet, apart from the fact that it will help me defeat Voldemort- but it requires the blood of a Death Eater who is also an intimate family member, such as a father- Snape's the only person that fills the category. He told Dumbledore about the potion, thinking it useless information, and then he was told… and then I found out in Occlumency lessons several weeks ago."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You mean he didn't even tell you?"

Harry shook his head, trying to keep his face blank. "He claims he was planning to."

"Do you think he would have?"

"…oddly," Harry said, pondering the peculiarity of his answer. "Yes."

"Well, this might be a good thing, right?" Ginny asked, looking unsure. "I mean, now you have a father…"

"How can he have found this out and still be awful to you?" Hermione questioned dolefully, shaking her head.

"Actually…" Harry said, thinking. "He hasn't been."

"But in Potions-"

"It's very important that no one finds out," Harry said. "If he suddenly changed his behavior towards me, there would be too many questions."

There was silence.

"Well, if he's your real father…" Ginny said thoughtfully. "Then why do you look so much like James?"

"Haven't asked," Harry admitted. "There haven't been any chances to, actually."

"You don't just… sit and talk sometimes?" Hermione asked.

"Not really…" Harry said. "You think I should?"

Both girls nodded, and Harry sighed to himself. They were probably right… he just hated the thought of the awkwardness of showing up at his door, suggesting a talk… but then, he did have a valid reason to talk to the man, now.

xxx

Quidditch tryouts were long and hard, and to make matters worse, Harry had to endure watching and sometimes playing with three positions worth of people who, frankly, did not know how to play Quidditch. Six people tried out for the position of Beater, only three of which managed to actually hit a Bludger. Seven people tried out for the position of Chaser, and only two spots were open, Katie Bell having already filled one position as captain and Chaser for the team.

Ginny was a shoe in, scoring almost every goal she attempted and performing nearly perfect passes in coordination with Katie Bell. The next two applicants, however, were not so wonderful. Alex Genero scored only three goals out of the ten attempts he made, and was finally put out of his misery when Dennis Creevey performed a horrific pass and broke his nose, sending him to the hospital wing. Creevey was sent off the field as well. In the end, Katie selected a fourth year named Mark Thomas. He wasn't a wonderful Chaser, but his effort was great- or at least that was what she had muttered to Harry.

Once the Beaters, George Sky and Carmen Mennot, had been chosen and were lined up with the Chasers, it was time for the Keeper to be tried. Only three other Gryffindors showed up to try out for this position, but Harry still feared that this would not help Ron. He'd performed wonderfully the previous year, but his bad set of nerves was more than likely to botch his show today.

Harry observed the three potential Keepers as they ran through drills, and saw competition for his friend in Simone Newell, a small, lightweight fifth year. Once Katie had narrowed her selection down to Ron and her, however, the choice was obvious. Simone was petite and soft spoken- which were perhaps more bearable qualities in a team member than were Ron's up and down measures of low confidence and over cockiness- but nevertheless, she seemed less of the Keeper material. Though her broom maneuvering skills were excellent and her attitude was great, she was no match to Ron's larger build and use of brute strength. If all else failed, Katie admitted in an undertone to Harry, whom she has seemed to accept as her assistant captain, Ron could bodily block the quaffle- Simone was likely to be cleared right off her broom in such an event.

Ron had not been openly hostile towards Harry, but he had been giving him the cold shoulder. They'd exchanged only a few words in the locker rooms, and Ron hadn't glanced in Harry's direction once in the entire duration of their tryouts. Now it was Harry's turn, and Ron gave him no more than a small nod as he left the field.

A bit stung and slightly nervous, Harry swung his leg over his Firebolt as Katie called the order to mount brooms. Waiting for his signal to kick off, he inspected his opponent. His name was Mark, and he was very plain looking. He was average sized for a boy his age- he was a third year- but he was still smaller than Harry, which worried him. It was much easier to dive, speed, and maneuver at a moment's notice when you carried less weight on your broom, and that was a fact.

Katie blew the whistle, and Harry immediately rose up into the air, kicking off at that moment as though on instinct. His adversary watched him carefully and matched his height, hovering a short way across the field and eyeing the small gold ball that Katie had in between her fingers. With another blast of the whistle, she released it, and it sped off in the direction of the mountains. Harry immediately began circling the pitch, and was annoyed to find that the other boy was following closely on his tail. Harry rolled his eyes and sped up; Mark did the same.

Why, this child was mimicking his every move! _Well_, Harry thought to himself, _if he wants to play that game_… and after speeding once around the pitch, he pulled up sharply on his broom, shooting up much higher into the air. Of course Mark copied this as well, and had no idea that Harry had already spied the snitch very close to the ground. Once Harry had reached a height he knew to be too far for his opponent, he abruptly dove towards the ground, and just to see the look on Mark's face, glanced over his shoulder. The younger boy had tried to do this as well, but such a steep dive from such a high height appeared to have been more than he could handle, and he had resorted to a steadier descent. Harry laughed to himself and continued speeding towards the snitch, which had now changed directions. Mark tried half-heartedly to follow, still green from the previous move.

Unbeknownst to Harry, or anyone else on the pitch, however, an uninvited spectator was watching this whole performance a short way away, standing sheltered beneath the stands. He observed, with his hooded eyes, that this boy was actually very talented… not an observation he hadn't already made before. The difference now, however, was that he found himself marveling at it… almost proud of it.

Severus was not a man who typically swelled with pride at the sight of his students performing extraordinary tasks- he never would have guessed he would have an instinctive desire to come to his son's tryouts, and he never would have guessed that his performance would please him so. He had been sitting up in the headmaster's office, forcibly engaging in light conversation over a cup of tea, when he'd spied the obnoxious maroon robes of the Gryffindor Quidditch team flying in a distance. An innate curiosity had taken hold of him, and he'd excused himself, making his way down to the Quidditch pitch. He had no idea what he was doing there now- he only knew that he was, in fact, there, and he was there to watch Harry. And he knew that he was enjoying himself.

Tryouts ended, and the unsurprising announcement was made that Harry would retain his position as Seeker. Severus smiled to himself as Harry struggled to hold back a blushing smile as Ginny Weasley threw her arms around him in what appeared to be an embrace of congratulations.

Ginny pulled away from Harry, smiling, and Harry smiled awkwardly back at her. He didn't trust himself to smile truly without beaming like an idiot. Hermione dragged a begrudged looking Ronald Weasley over, offering also her congratulations in an appropriate one-armed hug, and then gave Ron a small shove. Harry looked doubtfully at Ron, hesitant to speak first, and unsure of how Ron would react. It took a moment, but finally, Ron gave him a small clap on the back, saying, "You deserved it, mate."

And Harry could tell things were going to be fine between them, even if it took some time for complete normalcy to return.

Severus watched Harry for only a moment more, and then, seeing the boy heading in his direction, turned and started to walk back towards the castle. He didn't feel the need to hurry; no one would think it out of the ordinary that he was strolling on the grounds, but if he were rushing to get back to the castle unseen, it was likely to raise suspicion. He didn't look back over his shoulder, he simply held his gaze forward and continued walking.

A short way back, Harry and his friends had rounded the corner, and were now standing in the precise spot Severus had been watching from. Harry had stopped, rather suddenly, at the sight of his professor walking back towards the castle; he instantly knew what it meant.

"Harry?" Hermione questioned, examining his expression. "What-"

"He came to watch," Ginny said quietly, and Harry nodded.

"Probably came to get a look at what his Slytherins are in for this year," Ron muttered. Hermione shot him a very nasty glare and returned her attention to Harry.

"Go catch up with him," Hermione said encouragingly, and Harry turned to her in alarm.

"What would I do that for?"

Hermione and Ginny exchanged incredulous looks, and Ron just shook his head at them.

"You guys don't mind?" he asked after a moment, looking back at them. All three (including Ron, however grudgingly) shook their heads, and he nodded in response.

"I'll see you back in the common room a bit later," he said, before shouting, "Professor!" across the grounds. Severus stopped and turned, considering Harry as he came to meet him.

Harry opened his mouth, and then rethinking what he was about to say, closed it again. Severus considered him for another moment, and then flicked his wand. "Muffliato," he said quietly. "Our conversation is now private."

"You came to watch," Harry said quietly, more moved by this now that he was looking at the man than when he'd first realized it.

Severus gazed at him for a moment, and then nodded, ever so slightly. "I did," he said, resuming walking. Harry walked along side of him. "You did… very well," Severus admitted, grimacing as he said it.

"Thank you," Harry said, inwardly laughing at the pained look on Severus' face. "I was a little worried when I saw the other seeker, but I guess size isn't everything."

"No, experience counts for quite a bit," Severus agreed, opening the castle door. "Though you are getting a bit big for the position…"

"Well, I've only one more year, anyways," Harry said, shrugging. "And I'm not that big."

"No, you're actually quite small for a boy your age," Severus said, raising his eyebrows. Harry glared at him, though not with much malice behind it. "I simply stated that you're a bit large to play the position."

"Mmm," Harry murmured, raising an eyebrow.

Severus stopped in front of the stairs down to the dungeons. "I'm heading down to my office, if you'd like to come," he said, tone softer than it usually was.

Harry nodded. "I've got something to talk to you about, anyways."

"Something very serious?" Severus inquired, studying Harry's expression.

"Well…" Harry said slowly, avoiding Severus' eyes, which had narrowed. "See, I met Malfoy this morning- he had sent me a note saying he had something to tell me and to meet him-"

Severus' expression had hardened considerably, and he abruptly cut Harry off, speaking sharply. "Maybe my rooms would be more-"

"I think they would," Harry said quickly, and Severus instantly understood his concern. Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy were standing shortly across the way, apparently having just come through the doors from outside, and were now watching Severus and Harry, talking quietly to each other.

"Be on your way, you two," Severus called warningly across the hall after he had subtly cancelled his spell, and then redirected his attention to Harry. "And you," he said harshly, making Harry flinch, "Move, now. I won't ask nicely again." He gave Harry a not so light smack on the back of the head, and Harry sent a dark glare his way before heading down the stairs.

When they reached Severus' rooms, Harry was surprised as he felt Severus roughly grab the back of his robes and thrust him inside. Severus slammed the door closed and instantly started on Harry, who took a few steps back. "You received a missive from Draco Malfoy and actually conceded to the request within it? Did you not stop to think of the consequences-"

"Well, I didn't think you would be so angry!" Harry argued, and Severus' eyes widened in disbelief.

"I'm not talking about those consequences, idiot boy. My reaction is hardly as severe a consequence as could have been inflicted on you; did it not cross your mind that he could have been trying to trap you? Or perhaps it wasn't really even Draco, but rather, someone disguised as him?"

Harry was stricken with the strong desire to roll his eyes and point out that these speculations were a touch fantastical, but he resisted. "Yes, I did think of these things," Harry replied restrainedly, having the sense to look somewhat ashamed, though he still thought Severus was overreacting.

"So you were acting _despite_ the stupidity of your actions?" Severus sneered, looking at Harry with a controlled measure of disdain, though it was directed at his actions, not Harry himself.

"No- I-I- my actions weren't stupid!" Harry stammered out in protest. "I told someone where I was going!"

"Who?" Severus challenged, crossing his arms and giving Harry a skeptical look.

"Ginny," Harry said, unintentionally matching Severus' stance.

"Ms. Weasley?" Severus scoffed. "And pray tell, what good would that have done you?"

"I gave her instructions to get Ron and Hermione and come looking for me if I wasn't back a quarter after seven," Harry said, though now that he voiced it, his plan did seem rather pathetic. By the time his friends would have been able to scour the castle from top to bottom in search of him, it might have been too late.

Severus was studying his impression, and raised his eyebrows. "Are you realizing _now _the inanity of your behavior?" He drawled, curling his lip slightly.

"I- yes, I suppose so," Harry grumbled reluctantly, sliding into a nearby chair and propping his head up with his palm.

Severus watched him for a moment, unable to understand just why he couldn't manage to feel quite as annoyed as he might have a year ago. He shook his head and sighed, and then moved to sit down on the couch. "Very well, Harry," he said, rolling his eyes. "I believe I've got my point across effectively enough. What was it you wanted to tell me?" His tone was still gruff and unforgiving, and perhaps a touch forced, but he was making an effort.

Harry threw him an annoyed look. "Oh yeah, now you want to know," he muttered as he sat up. "You're not going to like what I have to say."

"When do I?" Severus came back. "It's never stopped you before."

"No, I suppose it hasn't," Harry admitted, wishing Severus would lose the sarcastic edge to his voice and sound a bit more welcoming to this chat. "Listen," he said quietly, trying not to sound as desperate as he suddenly felt. The panicked feelings he'd felt back in the dungeons with Malfoy were returning now, and he felt rather queasy now that he was facing Severus, for he knew what the man's reaction would be. "You really can't go back to Voldemort."

"_Don't_-" Severus hissed, closing his eyes, _"-say the name_."

"Voldemort," Harry soundly pronounced, standing up. His irritation was swallowing his previous feelings of nausea, for which he was grateful. "You've _worked under_ him before, and now you're working _against_ him. You can say the name- what you've been doing is more dangerous than uttering those three syllables."

"Shut up," Severus spat irritably, and Harry huffed in frustration.

"Please," Harry said after a moment, and Severus looked back up at him, surprised at his imploring tone. It was an abrupt change. "Don't go back to him. He knows."

"He knows what?" Severus asked slowly, eyes narrowed.

Harry considered him for a moment. "Well… nothing _yet_… but Lucius Malfoy- he knows you're my father. Malfoy claims his dad is only waiting for you to slip up-"

"How would Lucius know about this?" Severus interrupted in a sharp, calculating tone, standing up as well.

"I don't know," Harry confessed. "But he does, and that's all that's important, right?"

"How did you react when Draco told you this?" Severus questioned, dark eyes narrowed.

"I- well, I- oh…" Harry came to a realization then. He should have acted as though he had no clue what Malfoy was talking about. Like an idiot, he hadn't realized that Malfoy could have been testing him- he'd foolishly given the other boy the perfect reaction. If there had been any doubt in his mind before he'd talked to Harry, there was none now.

Severus shook his head. "Child…" he groaned miserably, rubbing his forehead in distress.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, feeling truly remorseful this time.

"Sorry doesn't even begin to comprise it," Severus said somewhat mournfully, pacing the room.

"Will you stay here then?" Harry asked hopefully, watching the other man.

"This upcoming mission is worth more information than you can possibly fathom, Harry," Severus growled. "And still your primary concern is something as trivial as having me here…" he paused, only then recognizing the significance of that. "Why _do_ you want me here?"

Harry stared at him for a moment. "Are you really asking that?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes.

"Well, is it such a difficult question?" Severus demanded, successfully achieving a tone ridden with irritation.

Harry frowned deeply at that. Admittedly, it hurt that Severus would even think such a thing, and that he'd had the insensitivity to say it was worse.

Severus watched Harry for a moment, suspecting by his lack of response that his words were being taken straight to heart. It took a moment's reflection, but finally, he relented and moved towards Harry.

"Listen," he said with some difficulty, and Harry refused to make eye contact. Sighing, he gently grabbed hold of Harry's chin and aimed the boy's gaze towards his face. "If I did not feel certain that I would be able to get myself out of any scrape with Lucius Malfoy, I would by no means dare to return to the circle. This is my _duty_, to ensure your safety. Yes- this is for your safety," he added insistently at Harry's doubtful look. "I am _more_ inclined to do this now than before. The information I gather now is gathered for much more personal reasons, not just for the good of the Order. You have to understand, Harry, that I am doing this because I feel it a vital necessity to protect you. I would rather give my life now and ensure you some safety because of it, than I would to stay here and risk losing you in the future."

"Why is it that everyone I care about has to give their lives for me?" Harry croaked, losing control of his voice. Strong tumults of an awful feeling swelled and forced up into Harry's chest and into his throat, making it ache and throb with surges of varied emotions. He couldn't express in words how dearly he needed this man to stay here. He had lost every single person he'd admired and looked up to in his life- every single person he might have, at least, if given the chance. Even if they weren't close- even if they hardly knew each other- he couldn't bear to lose the small ray of hope he'd been blessed with. And he'd never thought of Severus like that before- as an accessible remedy to his hopeless future - but he was. He was the only anchor Harry had left to this world… his friends, the headmaster… they couldn't compare to the sentiment and value of having a father.

Severus stared down at Harry; for a moment, he thought of bringing the boy into his arms. And as he watched his son struggle to hold back tears, so clearly distraught by his memories of loss and the prospect of a new loss… as he took a moment to fully grasp the fact that the boy wanted him kept alive so much, when no one had worried so deeply about him since his wife… he decided it wasn't such an atrocious idea.

He was prepared for the fact that he might be shoved away… but he was ready to try and be the father… not just the adult. With a softened expression, he murmured his son's name quietly and placed his hands on his shoulders, folding his arms delicately around him and pulling him close. Harry's form went stiff for a moment, uneased by the sudden closeness; but grateful for the comfort, he relaxed into his father's tall frame and rested his head on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around him and holding tightly. Severus offered no more words, no assurances he couldn't honestly give, and no more soothing, parental gestures. But he stood there, and he held his son… and as he pulled back and looked at Harry's face, deep into his eyes, he saw _his son_, and he saw Harry- the two seemed one in the same now.

And in fact, they were.

xxx End Chapter 27 xxx

AN: Huge thanks to my betas, **Rlmess** and **Cithara**. They're phenomenal, I couldn't ask for more.

Thoughts and Comments are always appreciated : )

Love you all platonically! You guys give me a reason to write, and I love you for it. Words can't express how much.


	28. In the Blood

Chapter 28

In the Blood

Author's notes at bottom

xxx

Harry dared to look up at Severus' face as the two broke apart, and was heartened by his almost affectionate expression. This was certainly different from what he had expected- he had expected the atmosphere to feel tense and awkward, but he found now that he was actually quite comfortable. Severus ran a hand over his son's head and frowned a bit.

"Go sit on the couch," he said, and then made his way to the teapot over on the counter. He poured two cups of tea and made his way over to where Harry now sat, lowering himself onto the couch across from his son.

"I have no intention of losing my life," Severus said quietly, watching Harry's expression with calculating interest. Harry's brow wrinkled in a pained, doubtful fashion. "That was poorly phrased on my part, before. I understand…" Severus took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I understand why you want me here- that desire simply failed to seem rational in that moment."

"I don't just want you here… I need you here," Harry stated feebly, staring down into his cup. "I don't know you very well, and I'm not sure how well we'll get on… but I'm just starting to get used to the idea… it's like you said. I don't want to wonder _what if_."

"Nobody ever does," Severus said quietly. "I wouldn't go if not for the necessity of it," he offered, earning a scoff and a glare from Harry.

"You don't have to go," Harry said, finding it difficult to keep the biting edge from his voice. "You've heard Dumbledore-"

"Yes, I have," Severus broke in, voice raised slightly now. "More so than you have, clearly. You don't understand the implications of what he says. My role in the Order is absolutely compulsory to our success… I won't be swayed to believe otherwise," he added, for Harry looked as though he were about to object.

"There are many things that still need to be discussed before I leave," Severus continued, changing the topic when Harry fell silent for a few moments. "The brewing of that potion needs to be initiated, for one, so you'll need to be informed about that."

"Who's going to brew it?" Harry asked, temporarily sidetracked.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "I mean no offense, Harry, but I don't believe you are the one to do so. But you should be involved, certainly- it will take more than one person. I was considering asking Albus and Miss Granger to tend to it while I am away."

"Hermione?" Harry rasped, surprised that Severus would even consider her.

"She is," Severus drawled grudgingly, his lip curling ever so slightly, "remarkably talented at Potions, among other things. I would trust some of the other teachers here, but as they are of limited knowledge as to certain things such as the Order, my past…our present… there are far too many explanations to be made before requesting any help of them."

"But you trust Hermione?" Harry reiterated, raising his eyebrows. He made a mental note to tell her this later; she would be pleased, he had no doubt.

"She's proven loyal to you in the past, yes," Severus said, inclining his head. "And as I said- oh, don't make me say it again. Miss Granger and Albus, yes, they are my choices. Of course, she shall need to be enlightened… I was hoping that perhaps you could persuade her to sit with Albus and I-"

"Shouldn't I be included in this?" Harry broke in, indignation rampant in his disposition.

"You are, Harry," Severus assured him, his hard tone warning him not to interrupt further. "I believe it would be intelligible to have her sit with the three of us so that we could all discuss the further measures that will need to be taken. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Yes," Harry immediately complied. It would ease the tension to have Hermione there as they talked over the plans for the coming year, and she was tactful enough that she wouldn't add to the stress of the situation, either. "I'd like that."

"Well, I thought you might," Severus intoned quietly.

Severus' expressionless tone and turned, shadowed face might have implied apathy, but considering who the man was, Harry took this assurance as a sort of gesture. Rather than say anything, though, and add discomfort to the mix, Harry gave only a nod as a sign that he understood.

"When I found all this out," Harry started after a moment of silence, changing the topic a bit. "You asked if I had any questions, and I said I didn't."

"Yes," Severus said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "I seem to recall."

Harry's brow lowered briefly; he felt bad now, about the way he had responded before. He couldn't recall being very understanding, or respectful. "I'm sorry," he quickly atoned, averting his gaze. "I-"

"There's no need to apologize," Severus said, his voice edged with a sort of annoyance. Harry frowned again, and Severus amended in a soft tone, leaning forward, "You were not the only person shocked by this discovery, you know. You and I are on the same level, as far as that is concerned. I don't hold your reaction against you."

Harry considered that. Severus truly couldn't help but make people uncomfortable around him, Harry decided. He was getting better at amending that quickly; in a way, it was gratifying to see the obvious effort he was making to put Harry at ease. For all that, however, Harry didn't much like the constant switching back and forth between anxiety and solace.

Severus frowned, seeing that Harry had drifted into a new category of thought. He let the boy ponder a moment more, and then steered the conversation back in its original direction. "Was that recollection a means of guiding the conversation towards those questions, Harry?"

"What?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "Oh," he said, understanding. "Er- yes, I guess it was. Well, at the time… I think I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of my asking questions… but I do have some, if you wouldn't mind-"

"I told you that you were welcome to question me at any time, did I not?" Severus reminded him. Harry nodded. "Then one's conclusion would be that no, I wouldn't mind; correct?"

"Yeah," Harry said softly, looking off to the side. He was inwardly cringing; this conversation wasn't going well, by his standard for easy conversation, at least. He constantly felt as though he were being rebuked for the way he thought; he was almost hesitant to speak at all, for fear that Severus would correct him again, with more annoyance than the last time.

_I'm making him uncomfortable_, Severus thought with a grimace. He knew he was doing it, correcting the boy at every turn, but it was habitual- a proclivity he couldn't quite refrain from. He was used to constantly chastising his students, and for the past five years, his only approach with this child had been to insult him mercilessly. Try as he may, he couldn't quite dispense with the tendency, especially as it was the mechanism he often used with his Slytherins to make them feel more comfortable. As ironic as it would seem, they responded well to the corrections- if they weren't being told how to comport themselves, then they grew uncomfortable, not knowing what was expected of them. Perhaps Harry's problem was that he worried _too_ _much_ about what was expected of him. He had grown up with people constantly ridiculing him for his errors, not gently guiding him to remove them. Yes, that was a sensible conclusion, Severus decided. Criticism had quite a different effect on his son than he anticipated… therefore, he would have to work harder on avoiding this propensity.

Rather than prompt Harry to speak, Severus decided to sit back and wait for him to talk. Obviously, his probing would do no good. Harry already seemed bound to ask his questions, and letting him do so on his own terms seemed the only way to make him comfortable.

Harry was silent for a few more minutes, deciding which questions he would ask first. He had a lot of queries, of course, but which ones were appropriate at this time?

He decided to start with the most direct, and least emotionally involved one.

"Why do I look like James, and not you?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

Severus looked up at him, eyebrows raised, and refrained from commenting on the fact that he had expected this question far earlier.

"I spoke with the headmaster about this, myself," Severus admitted, hoping that by including that he had been just as confused, he would put Harry at more ease. "Lily had to make this whole scheme believable, obviously, otherwise she wouldn't have-" he paused here, and decided he'd rather avoid that topic as much as possible. "She had a muggle midwife help her deliver the baby, and as soon as you were two weeks old, she, James, and Dumbledore performed a complex blood binding spell."

"Blood binding spell?" Harry repeated, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Yes," Severus affirmed, nodding. "It's a complex one, but not unheard of. They were all quite talented, so it was a plausible option. Some blood must be acquired from the willing donor, and the first stage of the spell essentially strips all the properties of the blood except for the one desired."

"So after that, it's-"

"Not really blood, but rather, a sort of supplement. In the next step, blood must be acquired from the recipient, and it is stripped of the properties that the other blood is left with. Once the two are bound, the blood is- ah- given back to the recipient, and in the third step of the spell, the sealing stage, the rest of the body responds to the command to structure itself according to that blood."

"But how-"

"I'm explaining it in as simple a way possible, Harry," Severus said. "But as I said, it's a very complicated spell. All of your blood reshapes itself in the form of the blood being given back… you have none of James' actual blood in you, but are genetically structured to fit his mold."

"Sounds a bit morbid," Harry said quietly, half to himself.

"Most ancient magic does," Severus agreed, nodding his head to the side. "But it's not nearly as gruesome as it sounds. I assure you, your mother would not have let them bleed you- a minimal amount of blood is actually used in the spell. It's mostly magic that induces the transformation."

"So it transformed me?"

"More… it laid out the course your development was to follow. You gradually became a replica of James Potter- you grew as his son would have grown."

Harry's head was beginning to hurt, he was trying so hard to understand. "But if I was supposed to look like him, then why do I have some of my mother's features?"

"I said it used a minimal amount of blood, you recall," Severus explained. "Such a small amount could not force your body to take the exact form his had. You are still very much your mother's son- you still acquired all the traits from her that you would have even without the spell."

"So basically," Harry said slowly, trying to work it out for himself. "The traits I would have received from you were stripped, and replaced by traits from James?"

Severus hesitated to answer, and then reluctantly said, "In the simplest of terms… yes. That is exactly what happened."

"Simple terms are better than long winded explanations," Harry said, tone mildly defensive. "But that makes sense. Erm, will I ever get to see what I really look like?"

"We could perform a second blood spell- one that would strip the effects of the last one- but we wouldn't be able to achieve your current appearance again. I think that would cause much confusion… among other things," Severus concluded dryly, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, the spell is a part of your appearance. The face you see in the mirror every day is what you look like- it's not some illusion. It's you."

"And _you're _fine with it?" Harry questioned apprehensively, unsure whether he wanted to hear Severus' response.

Severus considered him silently for a moment, and then nodded. "It's not my appearance to worry about. I shall endeavor to move past it, at any cost." His words were deceptively uncaring, but Harry caught a lilt of humor in his tone, and smiled slightly. In honesty, Severus really sounded like he couldn't care less what Harry looked like, and that was… relieving. The Wizarding World in its entirety judged Harry by his appearance- the scar on his head seemed to cause everyone to label him as a hero. Severus looked at him and saw… him. He didn't want to see the exterior of his past enemy, so he looked beneath the surface. Ironic scenario, but it worked.

"Are there more questions you wish to ask?" Severus inquired now, apparently trying for an easy expression. He couldn't quite achieve the mild look he was going for.

Harry thought for a moment. Honestly, he wanted to ask about his mother… but he wasn't sure if now was the time. No, perhaps another day. A day when Severus had more time, and when Harry was more prepared to deal with some of the responses to his question. He steered the conversation towards more pressing topics. "The potion," he said suddenly. "No one ever quite explained it to me."

"Ah," Severus murmured, nodding. "Understandable. Perhaps we can spare having to repeat this several times, though?"

"What do you mean?" Harry pressed, narrowing his eyes.

"I mean that now might be a good time to include the Headmaster and Miss Granger in our conversation."

"Oh," Harry said, thinking that should have been obvious. "Actually," he said abruptly, this topic only now occurring to him. "Before we do that… I do have another question."

"And what is that?" Severus leaned forward, dark hair falling into his face. He looked particularly intimidating in this moment, narrowing his calculative eyes, preparing for the coming question as though he were in the middle of an interrogation. Harry had the sudden impression that Severus could very easily sense, by Harry's attitudes, what sort of questions were coming.

"Why don't you trust Malfoy?" Harry asked, going out on a limb, and hoping that Severus wouldn't consider this too brash a question. He didn't seem to. He contemplated his answer for a moment, tracing his thin lips as he formulated a reply.

"I have many reasons," he started slowly, eyes still narrowed. "Consider who his family is. Consider how he's been raised. Lucius Malfoy is a person whose favor I do not mind having, but factually speaking, he is no real friend to me. He would turn his back on me in a minute's notice, if it proved beneficial to him. Draco has adored his father since the time he began to walk. I worry that the same values have been pushed on him- I don't trust him. Familial qualities are often the hardest to be rid of. Even if he desired to change, I think he might have too shaky a foundation of morals to do so. And before you point out that I was wrong for judging you by your family, realize that you didn't grow up with the man I took you for. You couldn't have learned to behave as Potter did, and looking back, I was foolish for thinking it simply ran in your blood. Draco, however, has grown up with the man I think bears such influence on him, so it's a very likely scenario that he will turn out almost identical to him."

"You changed," Harry pointed out. He instantly wished he could take that comment back- Severus' dark eyes were hardened, and he'd lowered his chin, looking out at Harry from the shadows created by his curtains of black hair.

"I grew up with _very_ different circumstances," he growled darkly. "Do not compare me to Draco Malfoy. You know very little about the reasons for why I joined… and why I left."

"I'm not defending Malfoy," Harry hastened to say, but it made no difference. "I don't trust him either… I was just… curious. And I don't mean to compare you to him-"

"Spare me the apology," Severus said, getting up from where he sat.

"But I-"

"No harm has been done," Severus insisted, though the glower didn't disappear from his face. "If you'd truly affronted me, I wouldn't insist you stop apologizing."

Harry was taken aback a bit at that; he simply didn't know what to say now. Severus just looked so… _offended_. He said so, and Severus just shook his head, pouring himself a second cup of tea.

"I don't expect you to understand the depth of everything you say, or everything I do," Severus said, summoning Harry's empty cup to where he stood. "My past is not a topic that puts a smile on my face, admittedly… however," he sighed grudgingly. "Mine is a history that you will need to be educated on."

"I don't want to inquire about things I shouldn't-"

"_Harry_," Severus mildly rebuked him. "If you are treading on ground that ought not be trodden, I _will_ tell you, you can be assured of that. Now, I believe this topic is exhausted. Have you any more questions?"

"No," Harry said.

Severus watched Harry, an apprehensive look of contemplation on his face. He seemed to be struggling with something, but said nothing. In the end, he sat down on the couch again, and sighed. "It's a bit late to go into this whole ordeal with explaining the Potion," Severus said tiredly. "Perhaps after Potions class on Thursday would be a better time… that way we won't have to go through the trouble of tracking down Miss Granger, and I can tell Albus ahead of time that we'll need to speak with him."

"Oh, alright," Harry said, somewhat disappointedly. He had hoped to hear about it tonight… but he got the idea that he'd offended Severus to the point of the man not wanting him around anymore. He set his cup of tea on the table in front of him, and rose ungracefully, trying to smooth out his robes as he did so. "I suppose I'll just be on my way, then, and-"

"Harry," Severus gently chided. "I didn't mean that you have to leave. Besides, you've barely touched your second cup of tea. It would be an awful insult to the Headmaster to waste his gift, wouldn't it?"

Harry gazed at him perplexedly for a moment, and then awkwardly sat back down. "I don't have any more questions, so you don't ha-"

"We don't _need_ to talk," Severus said, sipping from his cup. "Just sit- and stop folding your hands in your lap as if we're in the middle of an etiquette lesson. We're not."

The man really didn't know how not to be harsh, Harry mused as he resumed drinking his tea… this time in comfortable silence.

xxx

The Thursday Potions class came more quickly than Harry expected. He had notified Hermione at the beginning of the week that they would be skipping their lunch to meet with the Headmaster and Professor Snape, and she had been no less than ecstatic. His friends were attempting to take a warm approach to Harry's new discovery, and he appreciated it- but somehow, he got the idea that Hermione's enthusiasm was completely genuine, and had nothing to do with him. He could tell that she loved the idea of being asked for assistance by a teacher who gave her so little respect in class, and that she felt quite useful, helping in the brewing of such an important substance.

Harry's anticipation to learn about the topic that had been tugging at his mind all week kept his concentration waning throughout the lesson that day. As a result, his performance in class was less than topnotch, earning him a long and harsh lecture from Severus in front of the entire class. Of course, _he _didn't think it was such a huge deal that he had knocked over a vial of highly acidic dragon bile- accidents happen, right? But the Professor had had a very different mindset. By the time class was over, and Harry was done writing lines in the corner where he had been shamefully isolated, he was feeling much less generous towards the man than he had at the beginning of class.

The class filed out, and Severus placed silencing wards on the doors before turning back to Harry.

"Where was your head today?" he asked rather harshly, making Harry darken his glare at him.

"I just- it was an accident," Harry groused defensively, crossing his arms.

"And accident that could have cost someone a limb if the situation had played out differently," Severus added, narrowing his eyes at Harry's resentful demeanor.

Harry felt compelled to point out that there _was_ a reason for the hospital wing's existence, but felt it would hardly make his situation better to do so. He decided to glare at the wall until the Headmaster arrived, earning Severus' annoyance with him in the process.

"Are you going to brood in that corner the whole time?" Severus called from across the room as he sat down at his desk. Hermione was still gathering her things into her bag, but stopped to look warily at Harry's reaction.

Harry tried to ignore the man. He wasn't brooding. Severus had been entirely awful that class period, and he knew that this hadn't just been an act. The Potions Master really had thought his actions stupid and deserving of punishment, otherwise he wouldn't have given him a zero on the assignment, and he wouldn't have given Harry lines to write.

"You're really being rather childish," Severus commented, looking back down at the book on his desk.

"I'm not being childish," Harry protested quietly, meriting a scoff from Severus' corner.

"So you think glaring petulantly at the wall is being mature, do you?" Severus responded, the question rhetorical.

Hermione cleared her throat a bit, apparently out of nervousness. Throwing Severus a resentful, yet somewhat mild glare, he went and sat next to Hermione, not feeling generous enough to continue his little scene with his father.

"Have you talked to Ron lately?" Harry asked her quietly, venturing a glance towards Severus. Harry knew he could probably hear them, but he was showing no signs of interest in their conversation.

"A bit," Hermione admitted uncomfortably, grimacing.

"He's still not quite alright with this, is he?" Harry asked sullenly, looking down.

Hermione deliberated for a moment, and then shrugged regretfully. "I can't say he's pleased with you… or that he's quite adjusted… but he _is_ trying."

"He said he was fine with- well, what I told him, and that he was just angry that I'd waited…" Harry said, watching Hermione's expression. "I get the feeling that there's more to it than that."

Again, Hermione shrugged. "It is something to get used to…"

"You didn't seem so shocked when I told you," Harry pointed out, narrowing his eyes.

Apprehensively, Hermione admitted, "Well, I knew something was going on… I just… was prepared, I suppose."

"Prepared?" Harry repeated slowly.

"Fine," Hermione sighed, looking as uncomfortable as ever. "I'd already prepared myself for the most shocking of news… Mine and Ginny's understanding reactions were a result of the bracing I'd already provided. We knew our astonishment wouldn't help you any…"

"Ginny knew I had something to tell her?"

"Well, it was a bit obvious, after the previous night, when you'd asked for her help like that-"

"She told you about that?" Harry inquired angrily, raising his voice. A fluttering sound came from the corner- Severus was shuffling his papers. Harry glanced apologetically at him; he'd forgotten the man was even in the room.

"She told you about that?" Harry inquired again, somewhat indignant.

"Only after that next morning," Hermione answered hastily, a note of panic in her pitch. "It hardly mattered after that, right?"

A knock sounded at the door, and Harry looked up. Severus glanced over at him, and what he did next came as a small surprise to Harry. He went to his office door, looked quickly at Harry, seemingly evaluating something, and then shooed the Headmaster into the hallway, stepping out with him. It was a considerate gesture, Harry reflected. Still… he was growing steadily agitated with the friend in front of him.

Returning his attention to Hermione, Harry gave her an annoyed look. "Do you girls share everything? Do you just sit around having conversations behind my back about all my many problems?"

"No, Harry, of course not!" Hermione exclaimed, looking positively scandalized, and a bit hurt. Harry hadn't meant it that way, and tried to rid his face of the glare he held, and replace it with a more open expression. Hermione, however, went on, sounding more and more fretful by the word. "We just care about you, that's all! Really- please don't read anything else into this. We rarely talk about things you've confided in us; it's just that this has come as such a shock to us all, and I know we've done a good job hiding it, not to sound full of myself, but it doesn't change the fact that we've been delivered with stunning news and we're just trying to cope, honest, Harry."

Her tones were desperate, as was the yearning expression on her face. She seemed earnest, so Harry resigned himself to simply nodding. He still didn't like the idea that they were comparing notes behind his back, or so it seemed, but he didn't wish to burden Hermione any more with his complaints. He would talk to Ginny later, though. She seemed a better outlet for consultation about this problem. She was too strong willed to let his worries become criticisms directed at her.

"Are you angry?" Hermione asked in a small voice, and Harry shook his head.

"No, I'm not. I'm just thinking."

"Well, if you want to talk about what you're thinking of…" Hermione trailed off, her 'good friend' expression firmly reset in place.

Harry resisted the strong urge to snort and roll his eyes. He had just been talking about it, and she'd practically had an epileptic fit. "It's fine, Hermione," he assured her, getting up and walking towards the door. "But I do think we should get this whole- er- meeting, with the headmaster and Professor Snape underway."

"I said you could call him Severus in front of me," Hermione gently chided him, and this time, Harry did roll his eyes.

"Yes, I remember perfectly, Hermione. I think it sort of depends on my mood, anyways, what I call him." He tried to sound easygoing, but he was feeling a little uptight now. Actually, he had been feeling that way prior to talking to her, so he couldn't quite place all the blame on her shoulders.

Harry cracked the door open, and discovered the Headmaster and Professor Snape standing there, apparently making small talk.

"Erm," Harry stammered lamely, not quite knowing what to say. You can come in now? No, that didn't seem appropriate. We're done? No, that didn't either.

Severus got the point, however, saving Harry the trouble. He nodded brusquely and led Dumbledore inside, closing the door behind him.

"Down to business, then?" Dumbledore prompted good-naturedly, taking a seat next to the one Severus had just chosen.

Harry nodded, Hermione sat forward attentively, and Severus merely acknowledged the Headmaster with a brief but purposeful glance, which Harry supposed was a sign of consent.

"Everyone is agreed," Dumbledore announced into the silence. "Severus, would you like to start, or shall I?"

Severus seemed to contemplate that for a moment, and then tilted his head to the side. "Which one of us do you think is more likely to interrupt?"

"Perhaps Professor Snape should start," Harry offered; Dumbledore smiled lightly at this, and Severus shot him a look- though his glare was almost amused looking.

"I'd like to get to the point," Severus said now, sitting forward. "So I'll do that quickly then. However, Miss Granger, I need your word that what is said in this room stays in this room."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione returned seriously, and Severus nodded.

"Approximately a month ago, the Dark Lord mentioned a Potion that would be of great use to Harry. He mentioned it only in passing, but I was quick to examine the possibility of its use. I was disappointed to find that some of the ingredients would be unattainable, but after discussing it with the Headmaster, I found that this conclusion was quite wrong. We will be able to acquire all the ingredients- most have already been collected, and a few we are still waiting for.

"Miss Granger, if you would perhaps write this down, I should explain to you and the Headmaster which ingredients will need to be used, and how the properties of each affect the potion, in case we encounter problems along the way." Severus reached over to his desk and pulled a sheet of paper out of the book Harry had seen him working from earlier. He surveyed it quickly, and then read from it, "We will need the following: My blood, and the blood of a separate Death Eater; we will need an oath of secrecy to be taken by that Death Eater near the completion of the potion. We will require some part of Voldemort, some bodily fragment. The blood of a faithful friend, brewed for thirty days- Miss Granger, I hoped perhaps you would-"

Hermione looked quite ashen faced at this, but she nodded with a strong sense of resolve burning in her eyes. She looked quite determined to carry out the task being presented to her.

"We shall need also the hair of a veela… Harry, a piece of your flesh… and I've included the list of herbs that will need to be combined in preparation for this brewing, Miss Granger," Severus finished, handing the parchment to her.

She took it, an unpleasant expression on her face, and then looked back up at Severus. "This seems… a bit dark, sir."

"Little as you trust me," Severus said, with a dark edge to his voice. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Severus held up a hand, forestalling her. "Do you think the Headmaster would allow me to force you to performing Dark Magic?"

"I'm not saying I'm worried about what _I_ will have to do, Professor," Hermione said, voice stronger now. "I'm worried about the effects this will have on Harry. I'm right, aren't I? There is Dark Magic involved in this."

Severus hesitated to answer, and then turned to the Headmaster. "Perhaps you should explain."

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "This isn't quite what you would call Dark Magic, Miss Granger, and Harry, but yes, it does have elements of the Dark Arts in it. You will have noticed by now that it requires a varied list of rather perverse components, but as its outcome is not the harm of another individual, no, it is not classified as the Dark Arts. Its purpose is to protect Harry, and change him in a way that will break the connection with Voldemort. They will no longer share the same power- this will bring about the power that the Dark Lord knows not, you understand?"

"I understand," Hermione said slowly, digesting that. "That makes sense… but you don't think that changing Harry that way could be dangerous, if something goes wrong?"

"It does have some considerable risks, of course," Severus agreed. "But no risk is greater than allowing this game between him and the Dark Lord to continue. We will be careful to avoid these things-"

"Wait, what things?" Harry questioned, looking worried. "No one ever mentioned any risks."

"You really want to know them?" Severus asked.

"Yes," Harry insisted, nodding.

"There are many. You could sprout extra limbs, die after a fortnight, possibly even damage your magic, changing it to the point of strengthening your connection with Voldemort, and possibly fusing the two of you into one when you try to fight against each other. There are many errors to be made, which is why only we three are going to work on this." Severus paused, examining the look of horror on Harry's face. "I don't wish to concern you," he said. "I didn't tell you before because it seemed unnecessary- I doubt any of these things will happen to you."

"Why do you doubt that?" Harry asked, looking for some reassurance, since the future was looking pretty dim from his standpoint.

"Because," Severus said, "I'm working on it. I will not let anything happen to you as long as it is within my power. And I will run it through various tests to ensure you are safe to take it."

Harry gazed at him for a moment, and then slowly accepted Severus' words. He just prayed the man wasn't lying to him- he didn't really like the sound of any of those possibilities.

"Sir, how long will this potion take to brew?" Hermione inquired, frowning as she continued to intently study the book before her. She had fetched it from Severus desk during his warnings to Harry.

"Thirty fortnights," Severus said, and Hermione looked up sharply at him. "Yes, sixty weeks."

"Wh- that's more than a year!" Hermione exclaimed. "What are we to do if Harry ends up facing Voldemort before then?"

"That is why we are planning to keep him safe inside the castle," Severus said, aiming a pointed look at Harry. "So don't go running about, or you'll have me to answer to."

Harry wouldn't have thought Severus could manage to make a sentence like that sound caring in the least bit, but he had. Harry nodded solemnly, thinking to himself that perhaps this year, he might actually listen to this advice.

"I have some more questions, sir," Hermione said.

"Of course you do," Severus returned, and at her offended look, smirked.

"They're good questions," she muttered, and Harry coughed to cover up a small laugh.

"All questions are good questions, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Ask away."

"Well… how does this work?"

"That's what we call a very broad question, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, rolling his eyes. "Just because a question covers every topic you could possibly inquire on, doesn't make it a good question. It just makes for a long answer."

"Then perhaps you could give her that answer, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, receiving a sharp glare from the Potions Master.

"The reason that book," Severus indicated the one she was holding. "Is giving you difficulty in understanding is because it simply explains the properties needed to complete this sort of Potion. To put it somewhat simply, the combination of the elements on that list I gave you will first replicate the magic in the connection Harry and the Dark Lord share. When imbibed by Harry, the deactivating ingredients, the Veela Hair, the blood of a loyal friend, and the magic from the oath of secrecy from a second Death Eater, will begin to dissolve the elements of Harry's magic, along with the same elements in the Potion, that formulate the connection. Therefore, connection gone."

"Oh," Hermione mouthed, eyes wide. This all was very confusing to Harry, but she apparently seemed to understand, and was amazed by the complexity. "I think I understand. So the part of Voldemort and the blood of one of his loyal followers combine to represent the connection he shares with them. Your blood links Harry's to Voldemort's, since you are connected to both of them, and then they are all linked. The Veela Hair, in its purity, breaks down the dark elements of this connection-It's almost like a muggle vaccine!" To that, Hermione was met with mostly silence, and she quickly continued, "The blood of a loyal friend is a sacrifice that restores protection, when it combines with the blood of a close family member, who also makes the sacrifice. And the oath of the Death Eater represents… some sort of weakness to Voldemort?"

Severus was nodding. "Very clever. Yes, you've got the basic idea."

Hermione looked very pleased at that, and gave Harry a small, self-satisfied smile. He shook his head, but returned the smile, which was a bit weak. He really hated the sound of all this blood binding- it reminded him of the spell that had been performed on him as a child, and it had changed him then. He didn't really want to change as a result of magic, not again, and especially not when it was changing from the inside. But then, he didn't really have a choice.

"And the herbs are there to induce the binding and such?" Hermione was going on in the background. Harry drowned them out, and sat in contemplation as they continued talking.

Was there any way to get out of this? Was there another way to break the connection and defeat Voldemort? Not only his destiny was being affected by the expectations he was to live up to, but now, they were going to completely remake him in order for him to do so. It didn't seem right… it didn't seem fair. And hadn't the Dark Lord marked _him_ as his equal, not a future version of him? Damnit, he wouldn't be able to answer all these questions himself, either. He would probably just be kept in the dark… again…

Unless, perhaps… unless he decided to ask his father. After all, wasn't that what fathers were for? To help you solve your problems?

Harry looked up at Severus, who was still engaged in conversation with Hermione. Dumbledore was looking over the book now, a concentrated look on his face. Yes, Severus was definitely Harry's best option, if he wanted answers.

xxx

Friday came, and Harry excused himself from breakfast, making his way down to Severus' dungeons. He knew that his father was leaving on a mission for Voldemort today, and though he would be returning after the weekend, Harry hated to see him go. Though they spent little time together, that was improving, and Harry was getting quite used to the feeling of having someone to go to. Even if he had no problems, Harry still felt better going to sleep at night knowing there was someone in the castle who wouldn't turn him away, or shun him for his problems. After all, he'd made many mistakes in the past, and Severus still hadn't rejected him… he'd actually overcome five years of resentment and hate in only this past month. That was saying something.

Harry knocked on the door to Severus' rooms, and was answered a few moments later. Severus opened the door, and then lowered his gaze to see Harry standing there. Wordlessly, he stood aside for Harry to enter, and then closed the door.

"Aren't you supposed to be at breakfast?" Severus chided, returning to a box he had been sorting through when Harry had knocked.

"I came down to see you," Harry explained, sitting on the couch and watching Severus.

"Yes, I can see as much," Severus commented dryly, lifting his dark eyes for only a second.

"I wanted to say goodbye before you left," Harry said, feeling the need to further justify his visit.

Severus nodded. "I hope you're not about to attempt dissuading me from leaving again," he said.

"No…" Harry sighed, looking down. "Though I still wish you wouldn't. But I know you… you have to."

Severus paused for a moment, looking somewhat regretful as he placed his hands on the box, leaning on it a bit as he thought about that statement. He looked towards Harry, and grimaced. "You're making me feel relatively guilty for leaving," he said, sounding vaguely astonished. He shook his head.

"I will be back soon," he promised, dropping a small bag by the door and heading into his room for a moment. He came back out empty handed a moment later, but Harry paid no attention to that. He was still thinking of a way to get the man to stay.

"Promise you'll let me know if anything goes wrong?" Harry questioned.

Severus rolled his eyes in response. "I can hardly step out every half an hour and floo to Hogwarts to let you know things are going alright, and if something does happen, I won't have time to sit down and write a letter."

"Fine," Harry said softly, realizing how stupid he'd sounded. "Just be careful, then."

"I'm never anything but," Severus said, stepping towards Harry. Harry frowned. Why couldn't he just come out and say what he meant? There was no reason for the constant gibes and evasive responses. Harry longed to point this out, but Severus interrupted his thoughts.

"I hate to cut this short," Severus said, "but I must leave by ten this morning, and that's only an hour away. I must bid you goodbye now."

"Alright," Harry said, stepping towards the door.

"Harry," Severus said gently, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder to pull him back. "I _promise_ I will be careful. Better?"

Harry looked at him curiously for a moment, wondering how he was so perceptive about what was bothering him, and then nodded. "Better," he agreed, offering a small smile. "Goodbye."

Severus nodded and closed the door after Harry stepped out into the Corridor. Harry stared at the door for a moment more, a feeling of sadness filling him. Sighing, he turned and headed towards Gryffindor Tower. He just hoped that he would be down here again sometime soon, and without Severus suffering the after effects of Voldemort's rage…

xxx End Chapter 28 xxx

AN: If you have anything to say about your hopes for the plot, now is the time to say it, because I'm going to sit down and go over year seven soon. I'm also considering letting a few elements of the plot deviate a bit from what I wrote in my outline, so please review and make it easier for me to coordinate your interests into this.

Error: Earlier in the chapter, It appeared in Severus dialogue: "...unattainable perhaps, unattainable hun," I didn't intend to have that there- it was a note from one of my betas that was not deleted when I went back and made changes. Please disregard that line! It's fixed now, but for all those who saw it... well, don't read anything into it. I wouldn't have Severus running about spouting the word "hun".

As always, I must thank my betas Rlmess and Cithara for all their wonderful help.

Thanks so much for all the lovely reviews, I truly appreciate them.

I love you all platonically.


	29. Friend or Foe?

Chapter 29

Friend or Foe

Author's notes at the bottom

xxx

So far, Magic on the Offense had proved to be quite an interesting class. It was a bit like Dueling Club had been in second year, only now they had a competent teacher, and were all on the same playing field- rather than being grouped with the Slytherins, they were with the Hufflepuffs, and it was a much more agreeable situation.

The teacher, Professor Mortan, was a firm but benevolent man. He was middle aged, probably in his late thirties. He didn't quite fit the frame of what most girls considered _cute_, but he was handsome in a subtle way; his features were prominent, but the edges were soft. He was tall, and had a powerful presence when he drew himself up to his full height. He projected a tough, but not sinister image. He owned his classroom, and everyone in there knew it; there was no chance of getting away with mischief, and one didn't risk lazing about.

Today, however, Harry's heart simply wasn't in what he was doing. His father had left earlier that morning, and he was finding it difficult to concentrate on the minor duel he and Ron were having, using only blasting curses as offensive moves. Ron seemed much more good-natured now, though Harry couldn't figure out for the life of him why. He'd seemed so angry that day by the lake, but apparently, had decided to let it go. And that was just as well, because it wouldn't do to have his best friend mad at him for being in a situation he couldn't control (he had a feeling Hermione had pointed that out to him). As agreeable as his friend was being, Harry still didn't like the unsettled feeling it gave him not to have come to some sort of resolution with the other boy, and it was only adding to his anxiety.

Ron didn't seem to notice. As their teacher instructed them to once again construct their blocks, Ron eagerly raised his own wand, quickly contemplating the next spell he would hurl Harry's way. And it was, indeed, a good one. Harry's block faltered; Ron's curse had penetrated it, and Harry received a sharp blow to the arm. Ron yelled in victory; Harry sullenly sat himself on a nearby crate.

Twice during this class Ron managed to do the exact same thing, and by the end, Harry was quite sick of Magic on the Offense. The Professor announced, as they gathered their things to leave class, that the next week, those who had been constructing blocks would be given a turn at aiming the spells, so doing the reading would be advisable. Harry wasn't looking forward to this as much as he might have in normal circumstances.

_Just three days, _Harry mentally braced himself. _Three days until he returns and I know that everything will be all right… just three. _

xxx

"Harry, are you coming down for dinner?" Hermione asked, sliding back into her jumper and moving to stand with Ron.

"I don't know," Harry said irritably, rubbing his temples and glaring at the book in front of him. He'd been trying to concentrate on his Transfiguration homework for an hour now, but his attention kept waning, and now his head was pounding.

"I think it'll probably do you some good," Hermione said, striding over to him and closing the book he was staring at. He looked up at her and opened his mouth to tell her off, but she fixed him with an irrefutable look of insistence and tugged him up by the arm. "How do you expect to keep up with your schoolwork and attend Quidditch if you don't eat?" She questioned, leading him towards the door.

Harry looked to Ron for support, but he just shrugged. "She's right, mate," he said, grimacing.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry grumbled, following them out the Portrait hole.

As it turned out, Harry was actually a lot hungrier than he'd anticipated. When the food on the table appeared, and the tempting smells began wafting his way, he realized just how long he'd been neglecting his stomach for. He helped himself to a plate full of potatoes and roast, and began to voraciously devour it.

Ron looked impressed, and Hermione quirked her lips and said, "I thought you weren't hungry."

Harry shot her a look. "Apparently I was wrong. Ron, kindly ask Hermione to stop imitating your mother."

"Is that a slight on Hermione or my Mum?" Ron inquired, half jokingly, as Hermione hit him lightly on the arm.

Harry smiled as he finished chewing his bite of food, and then redirected the conversation to Quidditch. "So, Ron, if we can hurry up here, do you want to go down to the pitch early with me? I'm thinking that if we can get everything set up before everyone gets there, then we won't have to cut into practice time and we can be finished earlier."

"Suddenly the master of time management, Harry?" Hermione quipped, exchanging glances with Ron. "Besides, isn't it Katie's job to get everything ready?"

"There's nothing wrong with helping out a friend," Harry said evasively, shrugging. "And besides, I still have loads of homework to do."

"And you'd hate for Snape to return to hear that you didn't do any of your homework while he was away, wouldn't you?" Ron said quietly, almost tauntingly. Harry just maintained his gaze on his food, shrugging, mostly because this was a valid statement. Part of him hoped that if- no- _when_ Snape returned, it wouldn't be something Harry was dreading- and if he didn't have his homework done and his teachers said anything, then he would be dreading it.

"Doesn't matter, Ron," Hermione chastised in a low voice. "I think it's a nice improvement, Harry," she said with a confident nod.

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, you would. Ready to go Ron?" he asked, swinging his leg over the bench and ducking under the table to grab his bag.

"Er, yeah," Ron said, quickly shoving in several mouthfuls of food, and successfully spraying Hermione with little bits of chewed food as he declared with a full mouth, "Reary t'go."

Harry grimaced in Hermione's direction as she disgustedly grabbed a napkin, and he and Ron made their way out of the Great Hall.

xxx

"Hagrid, it's me!" Harry whispered from underneath his invisibility cloak, standing on the half-giant's front doorstep.

"Harry!" Hagrid exclaimed in a hoarse whisper, stepping back to allow him to enter. "What're you doing out an' about this late- it's past midnight!" He shut the door and Harry pulled off his cloak.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry said, and then realized how stupid that sounded.

"An' why couldn't ye sleep?"

"I-" Harry faltered here. Of course, coming to Hagrid seemed like a good idea when one was sitting alone in the common room, but now that he was here, he didn't really know what to say.

"Yer worried about yer father, aren't ye?" Hagrid said after a moment of studying Harry.

Harry nodded and sat down at the table. "Tell me that this mission isn't any more dangerous than the others he's been on."

"Harry, I don't know much about yer father's assignment," Hagrid admitted softly, putting a kettle of water over the fire. "But I'm sure he's been in worse situations before."

"I had a nightmare about it," Harry said quietly, looking down at his hands.

"You don' think it was a vision, do ye?" Hagrid said, lowering his bushy eyebrows in concern.

"No," Harry responded, shaking his head. "And I don't even know why I'm so worried about it! I mean… it's not as if… I don't know."

"Not as if, what, Harry, he cares about ye?" Hagrid said, his tone somewhat disapproving.

"No- just- I'm not sure what I'm so afraid of losing, other than the chance to have a father. But every time I think about the way things have been between us for the past five years… I'm not so sure. How can I possibly change my opinion of him after so long? How can I start to trust him after he's put me through hell since I've arrived here?"

"Ye shouldn't talk about him like that, Harry," Hagrid said quietly, getting up to fix two great mugs of tea.

"Well, it's true," Harry retorted mildly, pulling his robes tighter around himself.

"Even so," Hagrid said, "living in the past isn't helping ye ter move forward, is it?"

"I guess not," Harry said, shrugging. "But don't you think-"

"I think ye need ter give it a try, an' take all this worry yer feeling as a good sign."

"A good sign?" Harry repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeh, a good sign. Even if ye don't understand why ye do, it's obvious that yer starting to care about him, even if it's just a little."

"Hmm," Harry murmured into his mug, taking a sip of tea.

xxx

"Harry, you have to get up, or you're going to miss breakfast," Ron said, shaking Harry awake for the third time that morning. "It's already ten o' clock, and they stop serving at half past."

"Ron, missing a meal isn't the worst thing in the world!" Harry shouted, the sound coming muffled from underneath his pillows.

"It will be when Hermione's badgering you about eating again," Ron retorted, yanking the pillow off of Harry's head. "How late did you stay up, anyways?"

"I got to bed at about 2," Harry said, attempting to grab his pillow back from Ron.

"2 a.m.?" Ron repeated, keeping the pillow out of Harry's reach. "You have got to take a break, mate. You'll run yourself into the ground. And what homework did we have that kept you up that late? Today's Saturday!"

The truth was, Harry had finished his homework by eleven the previous night. But he didn't dare tell Ron about his visit to Hagrid's, and be pestered about the reason behind it.

"Come on," said Harry, climbing out of bed and pulling on his robes. He didn't miss the glance Ron and Neville exchanged, but he pretended not to notice. "Let's just get down there."

Ron shrugged at Neville and they followed Harry out of the dorm.

Harry didn't speak again until they were about to seat themselves at the table for breakfast. He was, once again, lost in his own thoughts, which kept inevitably drifting back to Severus. It had been two days now since he'd left- surely one more day wouldn't be so bad. And if anything had happened, he would have heard something by now, wouldn't he have?

"Your post's there," Hermione said, taking a sip of tea and continuing her reading out of the Herbology book she had perched in front of her food.

"Thanks," Harry said, pushing it aside. He _was_ hungry, and wanted to eat before the House Elves cleared the food away.

"You didn't get back to the common room until awfully late last night," Neville remarked from beside Hermione. She looked up in interest and nodded, marking her page and setting the book aside. "I wanted to tell you to watch out for Filch," Neville continued, "because he was looking for both of you."

"So you were going to warn us _once we got back_ to the common room?"

"No, I was waiting out by the main entrance," Neville said defensively. "But once it was past curfew, I decided it would be best if I just went back. You know, in case he caught me and then… I don't know, blamed you for keeping me out or something."

"Yeah, he'd do that," Harry said, laughing a bit. He was somewhat glad the conversation was about Filch, and not Snape… because he knew that Neville would have worse things to say about him.

"Katie made us stay out until we could perfect the play she'd designed," Ron said, helping himself to a piece of toast. "I don't see why she couldn't have let Harry go, though," he continued grudgingly. "After all, all you do is hover around, waiting for the snitch, while the rest of us work." He threw Harry a half grin, elbowing him lightly in the side.

Harry laughed. "I like my position, thanks. Better than having my sister throwing Quaffles at me full force, and actually getting knocked of my broom by them."

"Ginny knocked you off your broom?" Hermione exclaimed, choking a bit on her breakfast as she tried to hold in a laugh.

"Thanks, Harry," Ron said, lowering his head to hide the fact that his ears were turning red.

"Oh, it's not so bad," Ginny said as she walked by. Apparently, she'd been listening to their conversation. "After all, it only happened twice. And, they were very heavy Quaffles," she said, nodding her head in mock reassurance.

"Shut up, you," Ron said, flinging a forkful of eggs her way. She gave a little squeal and darted out of the way, then headed down to her other friends, laughing.

Hermione shook her head amusedly and picked up her book once again. "You know, I think you might be on to something, Neville, about the use of the Pharmus plant to enhance the effects of a detoxification draught. All the properties match up perfectly with the-"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, couldn't you talk about this during class? Or at least when we're all doing homework? On Monday?" Hermione glared at him, but he tried one last time. "At least not while we're eating?"

"Ron-"

"Okay, okay! Geez…" Ron looked at Harry, who held up his hands and shook his head, remaining neutral. Instead of adding to the argument, he turned aside to his mail.

The Daily Prophet had arrived, as usual. Harry had subscribed earlier that year, so that he would be up to date on what was going on without having to hear about it from Hermione. Under that was the Quibbler, which he'd been receiving once a month ever since the end of the previous year. Harry picked up the magazine and rifled through it, but apparently, this was not the end of his mail. Out of the magazine fell a letter- a very peculiar looking one. It was in a black envelope and written in white ink, in a tight, unrecognizable scrawl. It said only, "To Harry Potter." Harry looked around. Nobody had seen it fall into his lap, and so he tucked it back into the magazine and excused himself from the table.

Harry had intended to read it in the common room, but he realized, as he stepped out of the hall and looked around at the mostly empty tables, that Gryffindor Tower would be far from empty.

Harry turned around and headed for the dungeons. No one loitered down there- well, perhaps a roaming Slytherin here and there, but no one he couldn't handle, or at least hide from. He walked speedily, clutching the envelope tight in his hand. He didn't know what the letter contained, but he had a dark feeling about it.

After rounding the first corner he came to, Harry stopped and leaned up against the wall, looking around to make sure no one was coming. He was alone.

Harry slid a finger into the gap of the envelope and ripped it open, revealing a normal sheet of parchment inside. He pulled it open, and peered closely at the writing. It was in the same fashion as the writing on the envelope, but it was written in a deep red color; it almost looked like blood.

Harry started at the top line, hands shaking a bit now.

_Potter, _

_At one time, this would have been of little concern to you. Such little concern, in fact, I found it astonishing to learn that you are now very much involved in the fate of one Severus Snape. _

_We have found our spy. It wasn't incredibly difficult, especially when we threatened to hurt you, to make him confess his crimes against the Dark Lord. This has been a regrettable discovery, of course. I've always regarded him as one of the best. _

_Because killing him will be of little benefit to me, I am offering an alternative plan. I am proposing a trade; you may have him in exchange for your memory of the prophecy. I ask for nothing else, only that one bit of information. _

_This may seem a grand price, after all Dumbledore has done to protect it, but I ask you this: is the death of your father really worth it?_

_Come alone. If you show up with help, I will be forced to slaughter the traitor, and I know you would rather receive him in one piece than the alternative._

_You will find us in the cellar at this address:_

_1514 Maldrice _

_Duftown _

_AB55 4AL _

The letter was unsigned.

Harry's heart was beating hard against his chest as he folded the letter and slid it inside his pocket. He leaned back against the wall. How could he possibly do what the letter asked? He was almost positive that Snape would rather he stay at Hogwarts and seek the attention of an adult… but perhaps this was a risk he had to take. He couldn't just sit back and let the man be killed, especially when he knew how to save him.

"Potter!" shouted a familiar voice. Harry turned. "What are you doing down here?" Malfoy asked suspiciously, strolling towards him.

Harry considered the boy before him. Maybe, just maybe, he could find some help from the Slytherin. He wasn't willing to put his friends at risk and force them to come along, but he certainly wasn't about to go completely alone to find his father.

"How far are you willing to go to help my father?" Harry asked him quietly, handing him the letter.

Malfoy skimmed over the message, shaking his head all the while. "Not this far," Malfoy muttered, reading the address and handing the letter back to Harry. "I gave you a warning because I didn't wish to become involved in actually helping. Did you even tell him about what I said?"

"Yes," Harry responded. "And he refused to take it into account."

"And I always thought he was intelligent," Malfoy said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "He didn't believe it because it was coming from you, which I think_ is_ pretty intelligent, actually."

Malfoy appeared taken aback by this; traces of hurt flickered briefly over his fine features, but he said nothing to contradict Harry.

"Listen, you want to prove to me that you're on my side? Come with me. I need someone to back me up, and I'm not putting my friends' necks on the line."

Malfoy shook his head, looking remotely frightened now. "You don't understand, Potter!" He said in a harsh whisper, looking around. "If they catch me- catch us- they'll be harder on me than they'd be on you. My _father_ is a loyal death eater; do you understand what that means? I outwardly go against the Dark Lord, and it will literally be the end of me. I will be disowned- no money, no name, no home, and probably no life, because chances are, they'll murder me. They don't respond well to traitors. In fact, there's probably little use in going. _If_, and I mean _if_ Severus is still alive, they don't intend to keep him that way. They are not going to give him up for anything, trust me. He will be tortured and killed, and they won't pass on the opportunity to do the same to you."

"They need me alive," Harry said in a quiet growl, not liking at all what Malfoy was telling him.

"They don't need you sane," Malfoy responded. "You've heard what happened to the Longbottoms? They weren't killed because the Death Eaters weren't sure how they came into the prophecy; the only reason they're still alive is that they might do more damage dead. But they didn't just let them go, did they? They made sure that the Longbottoms would be incapable of doing them any harm."

"And you think they'll do the same to me?"

"I know they'll try," Malfoy said solemnly, nodding.

Harry took a moment to sort out his thoughts; he was getting frantic now. "Listen, Malfoy, I _need_ you to come with me. You're the only person who knows how they work. If I get into a spot of trouble, I need someone like you at my side."

"If you get into a spot of trouble, I'll be away from your side as quickly as I can!" Malfoy said, then lowered his voice again. "I'm not the one you want-"

"Fine, you don't have to stick with me. But at least come so that you can get help for me if I need it!"

"You need me," Harry said. "Otherwise you will spend your life serving Voldemort. Remember that?"

Malfoy stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah," he said resentfully, "I remember that."

"So will you come with me?" Harry asked, more instantly this time.

There was a moment's silence, and then, slowly, Malfoy nodded. "Fine…" he took a deep breath. "I'll come with you."

"Good," Harry said, immediately grabbing the other boy's wrist and pulling him down the hallway. "The letter says to go to the cellar of the address at Duftown. Do you know how to get there?"

"Well, of course," Malfoy said disdainfully. "We use the floo."

"Can we do that from here?" Harry asked doubtfully, and Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"Of course not, they watch the floo at Hogwarts. We'll have to go to Hogsmeade first. Merlin, you really _do_ need me."

"Yeah, whatever," Harry muttered. They'd reached the top of the stairs now, and were standing right at the entrance hall. Harry looked around; no one was in sight. "Come on, coast is clear," he said quietly, waving to Malfoy.

"There's no need to be all dramatic about it," Malfoy sneered. "We are allowed in the entrance hall. And we're allowed to go outside. We'll have to work a bit to get into Hogsmeade, but-"

"My cloak," Harry suddenly groaned.

"What?"

"My cloak. I'm going to need my cloak."

"Oh, the one you use to sneak around the school so much?"

Harry glared at him. "Yeah, that one."

"Well, where is it?" Malfoy said impatiently, tapping his foot.

"Would you stop it?" Harry said in annoyance. "It's in Gryffindor Tower. But you're not coming into our Common Room."

"I never said I wanted to," Malfoy said, rolling his eyes.

"Are you going to walk away as soon as I turn my back?" Harry questioned charily.

"Potter, I haven't got to come with you, you know. I am doing this by choice. I'm not going to try to escape, as it were."

"Right," Harry said. "Well then, you wait here, and I'll run and fetch my cloak."

"You do that," Malfoy said mockingly, leaning up against the wall.

Harry turned and headed quickly for his common room. He wanted to run, but he suspected that if he did, and someone saw him, he'd be much more likely to be questioned.

Even without running, Harry reached his common room quickly, and luckily with no interruptions. He hurriedly said the password and darted up to his dormitory, grabbing his cloak and heading back out the door quickly. He finally reached an obstacle, however, when he arrived at the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny was standing there, holding the open letter, and crossing her arms. "What's this?" She asked shakily, looking very concerned, and seemingly determined not to let him past her.

"It's-" Harry couldn't quite finish his sentence. What was she going to do? Was she going to get one of the Professors? Was she going to refuse to let him go?

"Harry," she said quietly, stepping forward. "Are you going to go?"

"Are you going to stop me?"

"I don't think I could," she admitted, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes, I'm going," Harry said after a moment of hesitation. Ginny lowered her head for a moment, and then looked back up.

"Not by yourself," she said.

"I'm not bringing you, or Ron or Hermione or Neville or anybody else, along with me. I won't put you all in danger again."

"It's my choice," Ginny said, voice stronger and more adamant now. "I'm coming with you, even if you won't get the others. Don't argue, it's only going to hold you up longer."

"No, Ginny-" but she was already heading towards the door. "Ginny!" Harry called, catching up to her. "Listen, I'm not going alone."

"Who's coming with you?" Ginny asked, seeming surprised.

Harry hesitated, and then admitted, "Malfoy."

"That little ferret?" Ginny exclaimed. "Harry, I wouldn't be surprised if he wrote the letter!"

"He didn't," Harry said. "I'm sure of it- you- listen, it's complicated."

"Only because you're complicating it," Ginny said. She waited a moment, and then gave him an ultimatum. "Either you let me come with you, or I'm going to go get McGonagall."

"Ginny, don't," Harry sighed.

"Then bring me with you!" she demanded. Harry's shoulders dropped, and he gave in.

"Fine- but promise you'll follow my instructions."

Ginny gave him a doubtful look, but said nothing to the contrary. Not wanting to waste any more time, Harry took this as compliance and led her out the Portrait hole.

"Listen, Harry," Ginny started as they headed down the hall. "Don't you think this is a little foolish? We don't know what we're getting ourselves into! We could disappear, and no one would ever know where we went."

"If we go to Dumbledore, he'll keep us up in his office and he won't act. You know that," Harry said. "He'd let Severus die rather than risk giving him away by investigating matters."

"Well, I know, it's just that-"

"Are you going to stay behind and be our safety net?" Harry asked, rounding on her. "Because to be honest, I don't really trust anyone else to keep their mouths shut."

"I- maybe," Ginny said, looking flustered. "Perhaps we could- I know this spell. We write notes and charm them to respond to a wand command. We leave them here, in Hogwarts, and if we get into trouble, then we give the command and they will find their way to Dumbledore. Can we at least do that?"

"Where would we hide them?" Harry asked.

"We'll slide them behind the portraits in the entry hall."

"I don't want Malfoy to know about these notes," Harry said. "I don't trust him completely, and I-"

"Harry, I agree," Ginny said hurriedly, cutting Harry off. He was telling her what she already knew. "We'll write them now and I'll slide them under the portraits."

"Fine," Harry said, pulling out a piece of parchment and ripping it in half. They both scribbled their messages to Dumbledore, and Ginny charmed hers. Harry watched, and then repeated the charm over his.

"Good," Ginny said, taking both notes and running a short way down the corridor. She lifted one of the portraits, ignoring its protests, and slid the note behind it. "Should work," she said quietly as Harry reached her.

"I hope so. And please don't upset Malfoy," Harry said as they came to the Entrance Hall. "It took a lot just to convince him to come."

"I won't," Ginny said resentfully, shooting Harry a dark look. She didn't like being treated like some kind of nuisance- like a child who didn't know her place.

"Oh, good!" Malfoy exclaimed as they approached. "You've found another backup. I'll just go, then-"

"No, Malfoy," Harry said, and the other boy halted, rolling his eyes. "She's making me bring her. But I still need you."

"She's _making_ you bring her?" Malfoy repeated, looking as though he was about to laugh. Ginny shot him a challenging glare, and he just shrugged. "Well… alright."

"We'd better move," Harry said.

"He's so serious," Malfoy remarked laughingly to Ginny; she just glared.

Getting out of the grounds wasn't as difficult as Harry had anticipated. Given, things would have been much more complex if Malfoy hadn't been there, using spells his father had taught him to slip past the gates unnoticed, and for that Harry was thankful. Ginny had seemed pretty impressed as well, but she certainly didn't say so.

It was a chilly day, so thankfully, the streets were empty enough that the three could get through unnoticed under the invisibility cloak. Well, Malfoy decided to risk being seen, rather than go under the cloak with a Weasley and Harry Potter, but Ginny and Harry moved quite well underneath it together. They soon found an abandoned shop with a fireplace, and one by one, left for Duftown.

Malfoy was the first through the grate. Harry came second, and Ginny followed third.

"Are we close, then?" Ginny asked quietly after dusting herself off a bit.

Harry nodded, moving towards a window. "We're on the right street- we'll just need to find the right place. Are you ready?"

Malfoy shook his head. "No, wait," he said, and he continued to dust himself off.

"Are you serious?" Ginny asked, giving him a deadpan look. "This isn't a beauty contest, it's a mission to save Harry's father. Could you _please _get over yourself?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," came the dripping sarcastic reply. Despite that, he finished dusting himself off and then followed Harry and Ginny, who were walking out the door without him.

The street was completely deserted, and an eerie grey sky had settled over the town. Ginny and Malfoy looked around nervously, and Harry began seeking out the addresses on the buildings.

"This way," he said quietly, motioning for them to follow. They followed the numbers until the reached number 1514.

"This is it," Ginny said in a small voice, and Harry nodded. Malfoy had lost his smug expression; his face was pale and stoic, and he didn't look at all happy about the situation.

"I want to go back," the pale boy replied, and Harry turned around and firmly gripped him by the arm.

"You're going in first," he said, giving the other boy a shove. Malfoy's expression gave the impression that he was whimpering inwardly, but he made no noise.

"You owe me, after this, Potter," he said quietly, reaching for the door.

"Yeah, that was the point of this, remember?" Harry replied irritably. "Now open the door."

Malfoy did; he slowly pushed the door open, and the three stepped cautiously inside. The floor they were standing on was all one room; the floors, walls, and pillars holding up the roof were all made of the same dull oak color. Small rays of light came in through the cracks in the walls and the holes in the drapes, illuminating the heavy cloak of dust that hung over the air.

"The letter said to go down to the cellar," Harry said, and Ginny looked over at him.

"This doesn't feel right," she said quietly, and Malfoy nodded in agreement.

"I don't care," Harry responded. "It's not supposed to feel right, walking into a group of Death Eaters." He paused. "Ginny, maybe you should stay behind-"

"Or maybe you should stop treating me like some delicate flower," she retorted. "I'm just as capable of handling this as either of you two. Possibly more. Stop talking down to me, Harry, I don't appreciate it. I'll follow your lead, but I'm not here to take commands."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and looked to Harry. Harry stood for a moment, taking this in, and then nodded. "You're right," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"That's right you're sorry," Ginny muttered, though she looked pleased. "Now, what's our plan?"

"Well," Harry started apprehensively, looking around. "We take this invisibility cloak and cover ourselves so that we have a better chance of getting down there unnoticed. I want to see what kind of state Severus is in before doing anything more, but if at all possible, I want to keep from having to give them the prophecy."

"And I want to keep from being seen," Malfoy added in.

"Yes, we all want that, Malfoy," Ginny replied.

"Yes, yes," Malfoy said flippantly. "But it's most important for me."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but Harry placed a hand on her shoulder and shook his head. The two exchanged a glance before looking back at Malfoy.

"Alright, is everyone ready?"

"Define ready," Malfoy said darkly.

Harry took his cloak and draped it over the three of them. They were a bit big for all three of them to fit underneath it, but with Malfoy and Harry stooping down to Ginny's height, it was manageable. They located the door down to the cellar and lifted it open. There was a long case of stairs leading down to the dark cellar, and from where they sat, it was quite crowded at the bottom; there seemed to be piles of crates everywhere.

It seemed an extremely foolish mission, now that they were actually here. What would they do if they were discovered? There were so many things that could go wrong- so many things Harry hadn't thought of before this moment. But now, his heart was working overtime, beating hard against his chest, and his mind seemed clearer than ever before. What he was doing was foolish; anyone could be waiting for them at the bottom of those steps.

Not wanting to waste unnecessary time loitering with the door open, the three climbed onto the steps and shut the door above. Making it down the stairs without losing the invisibility cloak was a difficult task. Slowly, they descended the stairs one by one, as quietly as possible. Malfoy looked scared now; he kept checking Harry's expression, now recognizing the raven-haired boy's position as leader. Harry kept looking at Ginny, worried about what he might be leading her into. This was his best friend's younger sister, and as of late, his friend. She was talented, yes- but Harry could only hope that would prevent harm from coming to her.

They reached the floor, and they'd not yet been seen. Harry looked to Malfoy and Ginny, and jerked his head in two different directions. Taking the hint, they pulled out from underneath the invisibility cloak. Malfoy looked sick now; his face was a delicate shade of grey and his eyes were wide and glossy. Harry gazed at him in deliberation for a moment, and handed him the invisibility cloak. He looked to Ginny and gave her an apologetic look, but she just shrugged and hid herself being a pile of crates in the direction Harry had indicated. Harry could only hope Malfoy had done the same.

Harry watched Ginny from where he stood for a moment. She seemed fine there, so he finally turned and began to inspect the opposite end of the cellar. He traveled through the shadows, keeping almost completely concealed behind the tall pillars of storage. It had been a few minutes since he'd separated from Ginny when she showed up at his side again.

"What are you doing?" He mouthed to her.

"I ran into a dead end," she said in a voice just below a whisper. "There's nothing over there; they have to be this way."

"Should we wait here for Mal-" at that, Harry felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around and raised his wand; Malfoy tugged the cloak off his head and held up two hands to stop him.

"Don't do that!" Harry whispered angrily.

"We're making a lot of noise," Ginny said nervously, peering around the crates. Malfoy nodded in agreement with her. "I think I hear voices," Ginny said after another moment. Harry moved to her side, straining to hear.

"I think you're right," he said shakily. "This way." He waved for them to follow and began snaking his way through the cellar, getting closer and closer to the voices. Finally, they were coming into view.

Standing in a small clearing, with five candles lit in the center, was a ring of four Death Eaters, holding hands and chanting with their eyes closed. Severus was one of them.

"Harry, Snape doesn't look like he's in any danger…" Ginny said uneasily.

Harry nodded, swallowing hard. One of his worst fears had been confirmed; they had walked into a trap. Severus had said Lucius would be there… and he was nowhere in sight. Harry had a sickened feeling that he was hiding somewhere nearby, waiting to strike.

"I have to go," Malfoy whispered frantically, backing up. "I have to-"

"Stop!" Harry mouthed to him. He grabbed at his cloak and then waved him the other way. "Just go- go!" He mouthed more insistently now, motioning with more fervor.

Harry waited until Malfoy was out of sight, and then turned back towards the circle. Severus eyes were open now, and from the look on his face, there could be no doubt that he saw Harry there. He looked furious… and worried. Harry backed up slowly, and Severus shut his eyes before anyone could notice he'd allowed his attention to stray.

"We'll head towards the exit," Harry said into Ginny's ear. "Just-"

"No," said a voice from behind. "I don't think you will."

Harry and Ginny turned, and found themselves staring up into the cruel, delighted grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

xxx End Chapter 29 xxx

AN: Wow, it's been two months since my last update… I really hope that won't happen again, guys. RL has been intervening- I had exams and whatnot for awhile, and then all this second term stuff to deal with… it's been very busy.

Again, please let me know when you find errors, I will go back and correct them.

I want to thank everyone who reviewed- I really do. You guys bring me so much inspiration and brighten my gloomy days- I would be nowhere without your support and honest criticisms.

I hope you enjoy this chapter; please give me some feedback, you know how much I love it!

Thank you so much to **Cithara **and **Rlmess**, my wonderful betas!

I love you all platonically oo!


	30. What's in a Name?

Chapter 30

What's in a Name?

xxx

"You thought you could hide from me," Lucius chuckled softly. "How very amusing. I must say, Potter, I was doubtful whether or not you would show up. You have been exercising great control over that handy impulsiveness this year. Not that this stopped my capturing you earlier this year, but it certainly has made it very difficult to strike."

"When have you tried to do that?" Ginny asked.

Lucius spared the girl a glance, and then turned back to Harry. "You've even brought a little friend along, how sweet. Are you his guard?" he questioned, his voice soft and mocking.

"I'm his friend," Ginny replied. "Not that you've ever had any, but friends stick with one another."

Lucius' lip curled derisively, so quickly it was almost like a twitch. "You two really are just precious," he sneered, looking back and forth between the two of them. "You maintain this loyalty to one another, even though you're about to die."

"You said you would give me Severus if I gave you the prophecy," Harry said resolutely, crossing his arms. He knew he was in no position to demand anything of Lucius Malfoy, but he had to bide his time. He could feel Ginny next to him, attempting to activate the charmed notes they'd left. If he could just keep Lucius talking until she'd done that, and then stay alive long enough for either Snape to rescue them, or for Dumbledore to show up, then they'd be fine.

"Dear boy, I never had any such intention," Lucius said softly, making a show of delicately stroking his wand. Harry felt Ginny stiffen next to him, and new that she'd done the spell… now if only she could keep her nerve. "I'm going to kill your father, and then present you to the Dark Lord… after the boys and I have had some fun, of course."

"You're sick," Ginny muttered from Harry's side. He glanced at her; her eyes were narrowed into the most repulsed kind of glare, and her fists were balled at her side. She looked absolutely infuriated, but not one bit scared.

Lucius let out a soft laugh. "And you're deluded."

"Deluded? How?" Harry demanded irritably. How could this man, who was delighted with the idea of torturing two children, possibly stand there and call _them_ deluded?

"You, Harry Potter, have been molded to fit the shape of a hero in every aspect. And your whole pack of ah, friends, as you call them, have been raised and trained to believe in this whole theory of right and wrong. Good and evil. Light and dark… you see. Would you dare to think outside the box? Of course not; to you, the world is black and white. You don't see the shades of grey."

"And the _Dark Lord _does?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow and stepping forward.

"Potter, don't try to debate with me on things you know nothing about," Lucius said irritably, looking him over with obvious contempt. "You're far too simple minded to understand the complexities of what the Dark Lord is trying to accomplish."

"He's not simple minded!" Ginny exclaimed, and Harry looked at her in surprise. This was hardly the sort of thing she would usually…. Oh. Ginny had caught on; she was biding for time… and drawing attention. Harry couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing; Severus already knew they were there. The more attention they drew, the more trouble his father would be in… yet, did Severus know they were in trouble? Did anyone?

"Oh really?" Lucius scoffed, his irritation mounting. "That explains why he came here with no backup aside from a Weasley- and a girl at that!"

Harry only glared; how very wrong Lucius was. He'd had a backup plan… and Ginny wasn't the only person he'd brought along.

"I'm better at fighting than my brother is, I can assure you that," Ginny replied heatedly, reaching for her wand. Harry grabbed her arm and held it at her side; the last thing she needed to do was start a duel with Malfoy.

"Is that why Potter's holding your arm at your side? Because he knows you can best me, and would rather avoid the violence? Is that it, Weasley?"

Ginny's cheeks flushed and she angrily jerked her arm from Harry's grasp. "Just because _he _thinks I can't do anything doesn't mean I can't!" she shouted, raising her wand and aiming it directly at him. Harry watched the scene in horror, and raised his wand to defend her… but stopped at one thing. Severus had approached from behind, and was shaking his head warningly.

Lucius beamed a triumphant smile as he deflected her succeeding curse and sent her wand flying. "Pathetic- not one ounce of self control, whatsoever!" he reached forward and grabbed Ginny by the neck, pulling her towards him. Harry winced, but Severus shook his head even more instantly than before, and Harry restrained himself from moving. Ginny gasped Harry's name, and he looked frantically to Severus, who shook his head again- but finally, Lucius had caught on. His eyes widened and he dropped Ginny, spinning around with his wand in hand.

Severus was too quick for him. The moment Lucius turned to face him, there was a great _CRACK_, and the same vines that Harry had seen bind Lupin in third year were wound about Lucius.

"You want to talk about pathetic?" Severus sneered coolly as he stepped towards Lucius.

"Yes, I do," Lucius struggled to say through the tight grip of Severus' spell. "Tell me how one of the most respected men in the Dark Lord's inner circle became like this- playing Daddy to the Boy-Who-Lived?

Severus chose not to respond to this. He wouldn't be baited; he knew exactly what Lucius was trying to do. He was trying to coerce him into admitting that he'd been working for Dumbledore since long before- but he was much smarter than that. Severus had been traveling in this circle of men for years; he knew how they worked. And if that wasn't Lucius' goal, then he certainly wasn't going to risk saying something that would hurt Harry- that would only come back to bite him in the end.

"How long, Severus," Lucius rasped, for Snape was tightening the vines' grip around his neck. "How long since you've betrayed us?"

"Betray- heh, betrayed you?" Severus repeated, almost in a bitter, laughing way. "Lucius, you betrayed me! I thought we were something of friends, until you tore me away from my wife and potential family with your lies. I could have been happy- for the first time in my life, I had a chance at something good, and you robbed me of it. And now you're trying to rob me of my son? And I'm the traitor? I went against your beliefs- but you? You went against _me_."

Lucius face was turning purple now, and Severus finally released the tension a bit. "Be thankful, _old friend_, that my son _is _here today. I saw that letter this morning, when we were beginning the spell. If he hadn't come, it would have been _I _who would be killing _you_." He paused, and then looked to Harry. "But that's not what you'd want me to do, is it?" It was phrased more as a statement than as a question, and there was a certain gleam of understanding behind his dark eyes.

Harry almost told him to go ahead and do it, vaguely aware of the fact that the old Snape would have called him spineless and weak for making the alternative decision. And hadn't this man planned on killing Severus and him? And hadn't he done enough dark deeds in his lifetime to deserve death? But in the end, Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't sentence this man to his death; he didn't feel he had the right to. "No, Dad, it's not." Harry said, feeling a sudden rush of goodwill towards his father. It felt nice, to have his opinion valued like that… to have someone ask him what he wanted done, rather than act despite him. He watched Severus' reaction to the title… he looked, shocked. Harry worried for a moment he'd gone too far… but he hadn't really _meant_ to say it, exactly. He hadn't… he hadn't planned to say it.

Severus gazed at Harry for a moment. Dad? Had the boy really just called him… Dad? Severus almost lost track of the moment… when had he done anything to earn such a personal title? Something so… official. Had he taken the role of father without consciously realizing it?

Severus didn't remind Harry of all Lucius had done, or what could result from allowing him to live. He was letting his son make his own decision, based on what he felt rather than pure logic. He was beginning to understand that Harry didn't work that way, and he wasn't going to force him to endure a decision that would leave him guilt ridden and apprehensive to fight for years to come. Perhaps this was what Harry was appreciation… perhaps this was what made Severus seem so much like a father. The fact that he was accepting his son the way he was, and allowing him to make his own decisions. Strange, how different this was from what he'd always viewed as a father…

"Professor! Harry!" Ginny suddenly cried from the ground, but it was too late. In a quick flash, two of the Death Eaters that had been in the circle with Severus appeared out of nowhere, striking him from behind. He let out a yell and fell to the ground; Harry immediately started towards him. Ginny, however, grabbed his ankle. "Dumbledore will be here any moment, Harry, don't get us killed now!"

He hesitated for a moment. Then, Ginny's eyes widened, and her mouth opened, and Harry knew what was happening. He grabbed her and dove behind the nearest pile of crates, and watched a flash of green light explode against the wall that had been behind them. Both sat shocked for a second, and then, coming to their senses, quickly picked themselves up off the ground. Harry looked for his wand, realizing to his dismay that he'd dropped it when he'd grabbed Ginny.

Without warning, Severus' tortured yells filled the cellar, and Harry cringed. "We have to help him!" he yelled to Ginny, and she nodded.

"Accio Harry's wand!" she called. She handed it to him quickly, and they emerged from their hiding place, ready to send the hexes flying.

"Stupify!" Ginny cried, hitting Lucius from behind.

"Ennervate!" Another of the Death Eaters cancelled her hex, and she soon found herself facing the tall blond man once again.

"Expelliarmus!" she yelled frantically, looking to Harry for reassurance.

"Get him while he's getting his wand!" Harry shouted to her, heading towards his father.

"Diffindo!"

His curse was easily deflected, and he dodged another. His father was no longer being tortured, but as his wand was several feet away, he could do nothing but shout directions at each child. He hoped that this would get them out alive, if they took his instructions… He hoped that help would arrive

xxx

Malfoy had run, all the way from the cellar to the fireplace, and then all the way from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He stopped at the doors to the entrance hall, panting for breath, and spelled the doors open; he didn't think he had the strength to pull them.

Malfoy didn't know the password to Dumbledore's office, so it would do no good to go there. But he did know that Madame Pomfrey stood by in the hospital wing at all times, and she would be able to fetch the Headmaster immediately.

Malfoy sped up to the infirmary, taking the steps two at a time. He stumbled several steps to the top, grabbing the railing to keep himself from falling, and stumbled onto the second level.

The corridors had never seemed so long as now, when Malfoy was trying desperately to reach the door at the end of the hall. He flew to the door and pushed it open. Unluckily the floors had just been washed, and he went straight through the doors and sliding across the floor, to be stopped finally by a hospital bed. "Madame… Pomfrey!" Malfoy yelled in a half gasp, bracing himself against the bed that had brought him to a full halt. "Madame… Pomfrey!" he called a bit louder now.

Madame Pomfrey came hurrying out of her office, took one look at the panting, red-faced boy, and said, "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I need to speak with Dumbledore. Now," he added imperatively.

"Alright, alright!" Pomfrey exclaimed in disapproving tones. "I'll fetch him for you. One moment."

"Wait!" Malfoy called. "Could you, ah, fetch me to him?"

"You mean you'd like to go see him in his office?"

"Yes, that's what I mean," said Malfoy, rolling his eyes.

Pomfrey considered for a moment, and he gave her a pleading look. "Fine," she said, her tone less snappish than usual. "Follow me."

"Headmaster Dumbledore!" Madame Pomfrey called, throwing a fistful of floo power into the fireplace and sticking her head through. "Draco Malfoy would like to see you, sir."

Malfoy waited with his breath held, until he saw her nod. "Yes, I'll send him right up," she declared, pulling her head out of the fireplace. She turned to Malfoy. "He says he'll see you right away. Just step through this grate."

Malfoy did as he was asked, and was sent spinning up to the office. It was a short ride; when he reached the office, he stepped out quickly, taking only a moment to gather himself and take note of his surroundings. The office was much different than he'd ever imagined it to be, with all sorts of silver instruments and gadgets lying about. He'd always pictured a stuffy little room, with plenty of oak furniture and paperwork- somewhat like his father's at home, only with porcelain pictures of muggles running through fields together and wizards dedicating their lives to non-magical folk. He supposed now that this had been a rather exaggerated assumption about Dumbledore, even if he was as pro-muggle as his father always said.

"What is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore asked immediately, stepping forward. He looked concerned; startled, Malfoy took a step back. He didn't like this man, no matter how much he needed his help at the moment, and who was he to lurk silently across the room, watching him?

Malfoy rummaged around in his robe pockets and pulled out a scrap of parchment, handing it to Dumbledore hastily. "Potter, the Weasley girl, and Professor Snape are in the cellar of this place," Malfoy hurried to say. "You have to go and get them, now."

Dumbledore's face had gone a shade paler, but other than that, his expression remained unchanged. "Of course- but Mr. Malfoy, I must know how you have obtained this information."

Malfoy's jaw dropped. "You're going to sit here," he queried challengingly, "and interrogate me while they're in trouble?"

"I can't act without sound reason, you realize," Dumbledore said calmly, leaning against his desk. "Please, just tell me how you know this so that I may leave. I wish to waste no time."

"Well, it certainly doesn't seem that way," Malfoy scoffed. There was a moment's silence, and then he relented as his hard grey eyes met Dumbledore's. "Potter received a letter from an unknown sender that said that they'd discovered the secret about his father, Severus, and that if he didn't show up alone, they would kill him. He was supposed to meet them in exchange for the prophecy. Apparently, he didn't feel confident enough to go alone, and yet he didn't want to risk having his friends killed," Malfoy stopped and gave a theatrical sigh, as if to point out how used he felt, "so, instead, he forced me to go with him- because, you know, he doesn't care if I die," he said, rolling his eyes. "He then ran to the Gryffindor common room to get his cloak, and ran into Weasley there. She demanded that he take her with him, I suppose, and she refused to leave his side. He couldn't shake her," he snorted, "So she ended up coming along. There, is that detailed enough for you?"

"There's no need to be rude, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, hurriedly grabbing his cloak and heading towards the door. "I'll need you to come with me to this place."

"Wait, what!" Malfoy asked in a panic, throwing up his hands in protest. "No, absolutely not. Do you understand what will happen to me if they find out I told you? If they see me there? I left for a reason!"

"I understand that, but you also came here for a reason, did you not?" Dumbledore probed insistently, opening the door now.

"So you could help them," Malfoy entreated, pathetically desperate, "because I can't do that." Dumbledore raised his white eyebrows, and Malfoy reiterated, "_I can't_. But really, I don't want to serve Voldemort my whole life, if it can be helped… I need Potter to live in order for that to happen, don't I?" Dumbledore didn't respond, so Malfoy continued. "And besides, there'll be no point coming here if you don't have at least one decent professor, and Severus is it."

"I might not get there in time if you don't come," Dumbledore said quietly.

Malfoy watched the old man for a moment, eyes growing wide, and then, as if realizing how much time he was wasting, he shook his head and changed his tone of voice from a whinging one to one of resent. "Fine, I'll come along… but I'm leaving once we get to Duftown. Is that alright? You are able to take care of yourself there, aren't you?"

"Quite," Dumbledore said stiffly, opening the door for Malfoy to step through. "Lead the way, and quickly. We've no time to waste."

"I-" Malfoy's response was cut short by the attack of two notes, folded in two and diving at his head, twittering like birds. "Arghh!" Malfoy yelled as one of the small strips of parchment began attacking his nose, cheeping angrily. Dumbledore quickly reached forward and snatched this one, and they instantly calmed as he read them both.

"Messages from Ms. Weasley and Harry," Dumbledore said after a moment. Malfoy stopped smoothing back his hair and frowned. Dumbledore was looking more anxious now, as he read the second note; Malfoy supposed that this was because the old man had now realized that Malfoy wasn't lying.

It took much less time to get to Duftown this time. Once they'd reached the outside of the Hogwarts gates, Dumbledore took Malfoy by the arm and used the boy's mind to guide them to the location nearest to their destination. They'd soon reached the street of Maldrice, and Malfoy brought him to the place where Harry and Ginny hopefully still were.

"This is it," Malfoy said quietly. He was half-afraid that now that they were here, Dumbledore would demand that Malfoy follow him in.

The headmaster did no such thing. He turned to Malfoy, and offered him a grateful nod. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. You may go back to Hogwarts now, if you wish- be careful, you don't know who you might meet on the way."

"I'll be alright," Malfoy said brusquely, squaring his shoulders, and turning and heading in the opposite direction. Once he'd looked back, the headmaster was gone.

xxx

"You may thank Miss Ginerva Weasley, Potter- or now, should it be Snape?" Lucius Malfoy pressed a finger to his chin as though in thought, and then shook his head. "Well, I suppose that's all very unimportant now. As I say, you may thank her for what is to come. You should have come alone as the letter requested, Potter."

"And why is that?" Harry growled through his teeth, looking up at Lucius through eyes narrowed in loathing. He and Ginny were bound together, sitting against the cellar wall; Severus was lying unconscious several feet away. He'd only been hit by a simple stunner, but Harry had been robbed of his wand before he could help him.

"Let me guess," Ginny spoke up. "Is it because I've got you even more livid than before? Save it. You were going to be awful to Harry no matter what. I had to try." She said the last to Harry more than Lucius, and he understood. She felt guilty about what was to happen to him, but she didn't blame herself, and she didn't want him to either. And she was right; it wasn't her fault. Lucius had been planning to torture him all along- Harry knew from what the younger Malfoy had said.

"Avery, Phelps, wake dear Severus to join us," Lucius called, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he looked over the angry, anxious faces of the two teens before him. It was as though he viewed them as a sort of prize; something he'd conquered. He gazed at them for a few more moments, and then, realizing he hadn't been answered, he called again. "Avery! Phelps!"

"They won't come to you, Mr. Malfoy," came a deep, old voice that Harry instantly recognized. He straightened up, and Ginny's face brightened as she looked to Harry. It was Dumbledore. He stepped out into the clearing, and surveyed the scene. His wand was raised; he was ready to strike, but he did not look worried. He seemed confident in the fact that Lucius wouldn't dare to attempt to overtake him. "There are three ministry aurors standing outside right now, and apparition wards have been placed on the building. It is in your best interest to stay where you are, Mr. Malfoy." His voice was deep and threatening, and was strong enough to keep Lucius standing where he was.

"Dumbledore," he hissed, looking around, obviously for a way to escape. This was difficult; he had them enclosed into an area very difficult to flee from, in order to prevent the flight of his captives. Ironically, now he was trapped. "How very convenient. You always do manage to show up right on time."

"Well, right on time is precisely when I want to show up, so that suits me," Dumbledore said, but there was no hint of amusement or goodwill to his tone. He was glaring hard at Lucius, and Harry had an idea that he was only refraining from cursing the life out of Malfoy because he had no reason to… yet. "You will be charged this time, Malfoy. Make no mistake about that. I know from experience that you feel yourself above the law; realize now that we have learned your tricks, and you will be staying where you are placed."

"Oh yes, I'm sure justice will be served," Malfoy sneered, beginning to circle Dumbledore. The older wizard immediately became wary; his eyes narrowed, and he glanced at the exit behind him. There was very little subtlety in the way Malfoy was pursuing his goal of escape, and Dumbledore wasted no time in circling the other way, pushing Malfoy further from the entrance.

Malfoy continued smirking. "You think you have me all figured out, don't you old man? What would you say if I told you I was taking a leaf out of your book?"

Dumbledore didn't respond to this with words; he raised his wand and with a quick flourish, sent a bolt of yellow light towards Lucius. However, the other man dodged out of the way. He raised his wand and sent a hex hurling towards Ginny, who tried frantically to move out of the way. The force of the spell was immense; even Harry felt the pressure. She immediately began to convulse, and Dumbledore flicked his wand at Severus.

"Enervate!" said the Headmaster, rushing to Ginny's side and hurriedly incanting a long stream of Latin words and spells. Severus was beginning to realize what was going on, and began searching for his wand, eyes becoming wider and more desperate as he grew more lucid.

Lucius laughed; a deep, mechanical laugh born of ill intention. "How very predictable you are! The Dark Lord told of your dueling tactics- I must say, the unoriginality of your strategy is a bit pathetic." He quickly pulled a necklace out from beneath his cloak, and tapped it with his wand. It glowed for a moment, and then faded. He smiled at the crowd before him; Dumbledore, who couldn't stop the stream of spells coming from his mouth without risking the loss of Ginny's life. Severus, who had just come back from a stunned state, prior to which he'd endured rigorous battle and attempts at torture… and Harry, who was still bound to Ginny, and unable to be released by anyone around him. Lucius hadn't won… but he certainly hadn't lost. "This," he said, holding up the necklace, "is what I meant, Dumbledore, when I said I was taking a leaf out of your book." And then Harry remembered- they'd told Voldemort that Harry had had a portkey in the form of a necklace, and that had been how he'd escaped.

"Dumbledore!" Harry shouted, and the old man started, looking his way. "It's a portkey, you have to-!"

But it was too late. With a final smirk, Malfoy clutched the charm attached to the golden chain, and disappeared from their sight.

"No," Harry muttered quietly, inwardly cursing. Then, suddenly remembering, he craned his neck towards his father, who was still lying on the floor. "Severus," Harry called, too preoccupied by his father's well-being and Ginny's current state to worry about where Lucius had escaped to. He already had an idea, and he knew they needed to get out of there, quickly.

"Harry," Severus said hoarsely, pushing himself to his feet. "Hold still," he said, coming to Harry's side. He spared Dumbledore a glance, but the man was still incanting over the now shrieking Ginny, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "I'm going to get you out, Harry, but you need to make sure that you do not move, or I may affect Miss Weasley as well."

"Ok," Harry agreed, nodding.

Severus held his wand steady for a moment, and then with a quick, angular movement of his wand, he released Harry. "That was all?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Severus said distractedly, moving to Dumbledore's side.

"Is she going to be ok?" Harry had to raise his voice to be heard over her shrieks; panic was edging its way into his voice now.

Severus nodded solemnly, returning to Harry. "She'll spend a few weeks in the Hospital Wing after this one… but she'll be alive, at least."

Harry swallowed hard; Ginny's screaming had stopped now, and she seemed to be coming back to a sane state of mind, but pain was still etched into every line of her face. "What does it do?" Harry asked, trying dearly not to resemble a young, scared little boy too closely.

Severus shook his head. "Perhaps that's a detail best discussed later," he said, looking quite sickened at the thought of what was happening to her.

Dumbledore finished the incantation, and immediately lifted Ginny into his arms. "We have to leave," he said, carrying her towards the stairs. "Follow me."

Tears were still running down Ginny's face, Harry saw… but Severus was right. She was alive. And so was his father.

xxx

"She'll need intensive treatment for the next week," Madame Pomfrey was saying to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They were all seated in the hospital wing; Pomfrey had just finished her examinations. Ginny was the only person seriously injured… luckily, as Pomfrey put it. Harry saw it differently.

"St. Mungo's would be the best option until we can adequately provide for her needs. Many side effects can result from this sort of hex…"

Severus had been correct; Harry was glad not to have been told earlier what had been happening to Ginny. Apparently, the hex that Malfoy had sent at her had the effect of… well, essentially destroying and rotting her from the inside out. If Dumbledore hadn't been there to start the countercurse immediately, the results would have been disastrous.

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, holding his crying wife's hand. "I believe we'll take that option."

Harry wanted to stay and listen, but at this point, Severus stood up. Receiving a nod from the headmaster, he extended an index finger at Harry, and crooked it towards himself. They both stepped away from the circle, and Severus leaned down to speak quietly to Harry.

"You and I need to have a chat."

Uh oh. Harry knew that tone of voice, and it was certainly his least favorite of all. It indicated that Severus had something darker on his mind than what he was saying… or, at least it had in the past. Harry wasn't sure exactly what it meant now, but he was sure it was something to the same extent.

"My rooms will do, I think," Severus said as the two headed down the corridors together. Harry remained silent; he didn't trust himself to speak, and he didn't want to give Severus more reason to become annoyed with him.

Harry expected to be roughly shoved inside as he was the last time he had been in trouble, but Severus merely opened the door and stood back. Harry glanced shamefully at him before stepping it, into the rooms.

Severus closed the door behind him and walked past Harry, putting his hands on the back of the couch and taking a deep breath. Slowly and resolutely, he turned to face Harry. He didn't have the strength of mind at the moment to be particularly severe, and some part of him was still reeling from all that had happened back in that cellar.

"I am severely disappointed in you," Severus said softly, shaking his head.

Harry cringed at the gentle, deeply disapproving tone. His insides felt like they'd been twisted, just by that one sentence.

There was a long silence. Minutes passed before anything was said, and Harry just waited for the lecture to continue. He didn't know what to say. An apology seemed futile at this point; stupid and pointless, a small gesture that couldn't even being to cover the magnitude of what he had done.

"I trusted that you would remain inside this castle," Severus finally continued, taking deep, steadying breaths as he went. "And you deliberately disobeyed me. You received an anonymous note asking you to trade what might be our greatest weapon in exchange for something he probably wouldn't even have given you, and not only did you agree, you actually did come alone."

"Not _alone,_" Harry said defensively. Severus glared at him; Harry quickly averted his eyes.

"You're right," Severus said quietly. "You did risk bringing another person, didn't you? Miss Weasley! A girl that is a year younger than you are, and is worth more than almost any student in this school. You may not see this, but she is worth a lot of leverage with the Death Eaters; she is the youngest and only daughter of the most prominent family in the Order of the Phoenix. Had Dumbledore not shown up, they would have taken her as well- tortured her, used her, possibly sold her off to some man- yes, they do do that! Harry, when you act, you must think about the consequences of those actions! At this rate, you won't make it to your seventh year!"

"I did think about the consequences!" Harry argued, almost near tears now. "I'm sorry, I really am sorry, but I thought it was worth it!"

"Harry," Severus said reprovingly, sternly. "Nothing is worth your life!"

"It wasn't my life I was worried about!"

Severus' increasingly angry expression fell at this, and he waited. Harry continued. "I got that letter and… I was scared. I couldn't think of what it would be like if you just… died, and I didn't do anything about it! And I wanted to go to an adult, but I didn't think they would act because they wouldn't want to risk exposing you! And I really didn't want to bring Ginny, but she said that if I didn't, then she would go to McGonagall, so I let her come- and I kept trying to protect her and keep her from getting harmed, and she told me to stop acting like she couldn't do anything, so I…" Harry stopped, choking on his words.

"Harry…" Severus said softly, hanging his head. He came to where Harry stood and put his hands on his shoulders. "I know how hard it is to make decisions like that. I'm… touched… that you would attempt to save me like that… but I would be happier if you didn't take such risks in the process. We- _I_- do this to protect you. If you get yourself killed, all that hard work will be in vain."

"We've been over this before," Harry said, staring at his father. "If everyone I love gets killed in the process, is it really worth it to win in the end?"

"That's a cowardly way of looking at it," Severus said firmly, pressing his lips together in a resolute line. "It was that kind of thinking that resulted in my joining Voldemort's ranks… you can't let this fear of losing people destroy your motivation to win. If you have to choose between yourself and me, choose yourself. You'll do more good that way then you would if you died to save me."

"But I can't do that!" Harry exclaimed. "I couldn't even do that even if I still hated you!"

"Why not?" Severus asked exasperatedly.

"Because… I don't know. Because it's not right," Harry said, and then frowned at his father's almost confused expression. "I grew up with people who treated others without a care for what was right… and I guess I just thought too negatively of their behavior to ever be able to imitate it."

Severus considered this for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You wouldn't be leaving me out of unkindness, Harry… you'd be leaving me out of duty. At my request. To do what you must is very different from abusing the rules of right and wrong. You follow your heart, and I understand that- but eventually, you're going to have to start relying more on tactics and strategy than your conscience and nobility."

"What if I can't?" Harry whispered.

Severus shook his head. "You will; I will help you." After a moment of hesitation, Severus lifted a hand and ran it over Harry's head, and the boy's eyes welled with tears.

Harry nodded, looking hard at his feet. "I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly.

A sort of choking noise escaped Severus, and he abruptly brought Harry into his arms, holding him close. "I take back what I said at the beginning of the year," Severus said, muffled by Harry's hair. "You're not at all selfish, Harry… perhaps a bit _too_ _selfless_, even… It seems I was very wrong about you... I'm glad I was very wrong about you."

Now Harry had the courage to look up into Severus' eyes. He was admitting that he was wrong? "Are you trying to say you actually like me?" Harry half joked, smiling.

Severus inclined his head. "Perhaps I'm trying to say more," he admitted, giving his son a squeeze as he pulled him back. "And I seem to have forgotten to mention how very thrilled I am to have you back here alive…" Severus continued, though it seemed to make him uncomfortable to admit what he was ultimately trying to express. "I… it terrified me, to see you there tonight."

"I thought you were angry when you saw me," Harry said as he was finally released.

"Beyond anger," Severus said, voice somewhat dark. "But more afraid than anything… I've never really had that feeling before. It was… well, unpleasant," he said, looking off to the side. "So please, Harry-"

"I'll try," Harry quietly promised his father. "I'll try."

Severus nodded. "Well, I suppose that's better than nothing… thank you."

AN: Well, I tried not to be so long in updating this time.

Thank you so much to my betas **Cithara** and **Rlmess**.

Feedback is always appreciated!

I love you all platonically.


	31. Leniency or Severity

Chapter 31

Leniency or Severity

xxx

"Honestly, sir," Harry said, as they walked down the corridor. They had been asked to return to Dumbledore's office, so that they could fill him in on what had happened and discuss their new approach. "Wouldn't you say that this experience has been punishment enough for my actions?"

Severus leveled him with a glare. "No," he replied ominously; Harry repressed the urge to shudder. He didn't, though. The mood between them was much lighter than it ought to be, considering the subject of their conversation. Sure, his father was angry with him… but he wasn't acting it, not really.

"With all due respect, sir," Harry said, daring to push him limits. "I really don't think I ought to be punished for following my instincts…"

"No?" Severus questioned, eyebrows raised. "Well then, I suppose we won't punish you for that."

Harry almost breathed a sigh of relief, before Severus continued. "We'll punish you for complete and utter disobedience, putting all our lives in danger, giving me up as a spy, interfering with the affairs of the Order of the Phoenix, neglecting to accept the help of an adult, and following the directions of an anonymous letter-" Severus glanced at Harry with a dark look. "You have a great deal of idiocy to atone for."

Harry groaned a little and hung his head. He supposed he deserved to be punished, really. In honesty, he had expected this… but part of him had hoped that he might be able to find his way out of it. He didn't want to know what kind of punishment Severus was going to cook up for him, especially so close the Christmas holidays.

"Oh, do settle down," Severus said, his dry tone implying amusement at the distressed look on Harry's face. "You're right in one aspect- you have already suffered for your mistakes. You honestly think I would be _so_ harsh?"

"It's hard to tell, with you," Harry admitted darkly.

"Mmm," Severus murmured, reaching the gargoyle. "Licorice wand," he muttered irritably. "Where on earth does he come up with these passwords?" he inquired softly, shaking his head. Harry couldn't help but give him a little smile- Severus seemed less angry with him than he was trying to be.

"Severus, Harry," the Headmaster greeted them warmly at the top of the stairs. "Good to see you getting along. I worried when you left that you'd come back in a much less pleasant mood."

"Believe it or not, Albus," Severus said as he passed the older man. "I am capable of being humane. Am I not, Harry?"

"That's still debatable," Harry said, standing next to Dumbledore. "You haven't told me what my punishment is, yet."

Severus inclined his head, smirking. "Fair enough," he admitted, sitting down. "Now, Albus, I do believe we have more pertinent information to discuss?"

"Of course, of course," the Headmaster said distractedly, looking from Severus to Harry. This was the first time he'd really witnessed the two of them getting along, and however little he was witnessing right now, it was a somewhat amazing thing. He'd never thought a day would come when the two of them could coexist peacefully in a room together, much less lightly quipping at each other in general good nature, and despite their current topic of conversation. It was almost… heart warming.

Dumbledore moved behind his desk, smiling faintly still, and began. "I think the first thing we should discuss, in terms of the Order, is-"

"Wait-" Harry interrupted, somewhat surprised. "I get to stay for this part?" He was never able to stay for conversations between the headmaster and other staff members. Though he'd known that they'd been asked there to go over what had happened, he hadn't expected to be allowed to stay for business that involved things such as the Order.

"Being that I'm your- legal guardian, now," Severus said somewhat uncomfortably, examining his hands. His mind flickered back to when Harry had called him "Dad" in that cellar… he'd not yet asked the boy about that. He wasn't sure he planned to. "It is up to me whether you stay or go. I requested that you be able to hear this discussion- I think it's important. If you would rather go, however, you are free to do so."

"No," Harry quickly amended, taking a seat next to Severus. "I'd like to stay… I'm just surprised that I can."

Severus gave him an affable nod, and then turned back to Dumbledore. "As you were saying?"

"Well, first matters first, we should cover how we came to this situation."

Damn, and Harry had thought he might avoid this uncomfortable overview of events… as if he wasn't being censured enough by his father. Now he had to endure the Headmaster's eyes full of faded twinkle as he versed the man on the events. "_This_ is why you wanted me here," Harry quietly muttered.

Severus smirked slightly, but remained silent. Served the boy right. He should feel guilty… right? Severus found himself rethinking that as he looked at the boy's face… it was sad. He looked… older, and yet, younger at the same time. Like a small child who knew what he'd done wrong… yet like an old adult who could comprehend the full magnitude of those actions. What a combination; a childlike guilt complex and an overly mature appreciation for consequences. Severus contemplated this; the boy in front of him had been forced to grow up too fast. Why hadn't he seen this before?

"Professor Dumbledore, I'm really sorry," Harry said. It was a bit difficult to come right out and say this, but with his father sitting next to him, he didn't dare protest and have to listen to every one of his statements be disproved. He knew he had been in the wrong… though he still thought he should receive some credit for his bravery.

"I'm not asking you to apologize," Dumbledore countered softly, before Harry could go any further. Severus rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. Despite his thoughts about Harry's maturity, he was still bothered by the fact that no one ever held him accountable for his actions. Dumbledore shot him a warning look, that seemed to say, _You've come this far, don't ruin it for yourself now_.

Severus glanced at Harry and shook his head. _This boy is treated with far too much leniency, _he thought to himself. _Though I suppose that's no fault of his own… and he is rather difficult to blame for anything, when one actually tries to be firm with him. _… Harry was very difficult to dislike, when one came to know him. Severus almost rebuked himself for that thought, and then realized it was exactly the sort of thing he was supposed to be thinking. It was such a frustrating process, readjusting his entire mindset towards the boy.

"I just need an account of what happened, apologies and justifications aside, Harry," Dumbledore continued. "This isn't about placing blame or glory, I'm sure you know that's not my objective. The ministry will need to be told something of this, but there may be certain details that we must… ah… omit, or alter, for our benefit. For the Order's benefit," he clarified.

"Ok," Harry said, nodding. "Well, I was sitting at breakfast, and I received this letter in a black envelope with white writing. I knew just by looking at it that it was something I should read in private, so I took it down to the dungeons, because not many people who probe me for information are down there."

Severus cleared his throat as though to say something, but Dumbledore held up a hand to silence him. Severus sat back in his chair, looking disgruntled.

Harry glanced at his father, frowning, and then continued. "I read it and then deliberated for awhile. I couldn't decide whether or not to go… but I guess you know my decision. I wanted to come get someone, but I thought that you wouldn't want to give up his position as a spy… so you wouldn't do anything."

Harry fell silent, seemingly waiting for a response.

"Harry," Severus said after a moment. "We have planned our every action to coordinate with moments like these. Believe me, had I been in danger and had you told Dumbledore, everything still would have gone along with our plans…. you have to trust that what we are doing is for the best. You must give the power over to the adults."

"Every time I do it backfires," Harry said solemnly, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh really?" Severus asked skeptically, crossing his arms.

"Yes, really," Harry insisted. "First year, I went to McGonagall, and told her about the Sorcerers Stone and the plot to steal it. She insisted it was safe- yet if I hadn't shown up, it would have been Voldemort's."

"Someone would have arrived," Dumbledore said. "And Voldemort never would have realized how to get it out of the mirror- though you did do an admirable job."

"Stop treating him like a child, Albus," Severus intervened. "Don't coat every situation in sugar; it's unhealthy to one's perception of good decision making. Harry, I think you should be able to make some of your own decisions, but there are certain things that you still need to leave to us."

"I wasn't finished," Harry interrupted- snapped, almost.

Harry half expecting to be rebuked for this. However, Severus just spread his hands in a small gesture and said, "Please, continue then."

"If we hadn't taken matters into our own hands in second year, Ginny would be dead and Voldemort would have returned that year. If we hadn't… sorry, sir, but if we hadn't all cursed you into silence-"

"More unconsciousness than simple silence," Severus muttered as Harry continued.

"-third year, an innocent man would have been killed- _my godfather_. In fourth year, a teacher was the one that did hurt me, just because I trusted him and let him guide me. Fifth year… fifth year was a mistake," he admitted quietly. "But the point is that often, my intuition is correct… and often, better than yours."

"Better is an overstatement," Severus said, crossing his arms. "Second year, if you had told someone about that blasted diary, or if you had come to another teacher with your information about the Chamber of Secrets, then you would have been much safer. We could have destroyed that blasted thing and Miss Weasley never would have been dragged into the chamber in the first place. You were _lucky_ to be healed from that Basilisk's venom, but you may not always be so lucky. In your third year…" Severus stopped and thought for a moment, and then shook his head. "Well, you did have the help of an adult in the end, didn't you? Headmaster Dumbledore subtly recommended the use of the time turner for your purpose- yes," he added as Harry's jaw dropped slightly, "I do know about that. Otherwise, Black still would have died. You needed an adult then. In your fourth year, if you hadn't…"

Severus stopped himself, then, afraid of what he was about to say next. He had been about to state the fact that Cedric wouldn't have died if Harry hadn't asked him to take the cup out of nobility, but that was just… cruel. And as it had nothing to do with asking adults for help, it was somewhat irrelevant.

"I see your point," Severus finally surrendered, unwilling to go to that extent to make his point. "But I'm hopeful that you see mine as well. You need adults, and we need… well, I suppose we need you. Perhaps cooperation is a better alternative."

"Do you mean that?" Harry questioned, sitting forward a bit.

"I've told you before; this won't be easy for me…. Change will have to come gradually, especially considering how habitual this constantly irascible demeanor of mine has become… but yes, I do intend to keep this promise. I will attempt to cooperate rather than… ah..."

"Control?" Harry tried. Severus considered him with a slightly peeved expression for a moment, and then inclined his head.

"Mind you, there will be times where you must accept my authority on some things."

"I understand that," Harry said, nodding. The prospect of having someone to be an actual parent to him sounded… agreeable. Pleasant. His life had been full of non-committal, impermanent parental figures, but none of them had really come close to what a real parent ought to be.

"As much as I hate to interrupt," interjected the Headmaster gently, "There are two aurors and a team of rather curious ministry officials waiting in the Entrance Hall; I doubt Professor McGonagall will be able to deter them from meeting with me for long. The story, Harry- what happened after you read the note?"

"I ran into Draco Malfoy. It struck me at that point that- well- if he really was trying to help me in this, he might be willing to help me then. In short, he agreed to come. I ran back to the Gryffindor common room to get my cloak, but Ginny caught me, and knew something was up. She wouldn't leave my side, and threatened to notify McGonagall if we left… so I allowed her to come."

Severus opened his mouth, but Dumbledore was quick to stop him from speaking, yet again. "Severus, we really must get through this. You can take your son and thoroughly lecture him later," there was a glint of humor in the old man's eyes, here, "but I must request that you refrain from interruption."

Severus glared defiantly at the Headmaster for a moment, then towards his son. After a few seconds pause, he rose abruptly, fetching several pieces of parchment, a quill, and a book off the Headmaster's desk. As Harry continued his story, he sat furiously scribbling notes…

xxx

Pain flared up through Severus' arm; he didn't answer. He only winced, receiving a pained look from Harry.

Severus status among the Death Eaters had been irrevocably damaged. However, in order to keep the Ministry from interfering with his working at Hogwarts, he and the Headmaster had carefully constructed a story that would, unless acutely investigated, imply that Severus had retained his position in Lord Voldemort's ranks.

The only option, now, was to use what they already knew, and start work on the potion as quickly as possible.

"Today."

"Today?" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes, today," Severus repeated, rising from his seat and collecting several volumes off his bookshelf. "We haven't any time to spare; now that Lucius has informed the Dark Lord of our familial connection, he'll know what we're planning to do. He'll either double his efforts to kill you before such a time when the potion can be completed… or he'll find a counter-solution. In all probability, he'll try both. I don't want to take the risk of being unprepared, and neither does the Headmaster."

"But… are we even prepared to start? The way I'd understood, we hadn't even found the actual book with the potion in it, yet…"

"Well, we had a fair idea where to look, obviously, since we'd already learned the ingredients. It didn't take Miss Granger long to locate the book with the exact formula."

"Hermione?"

"I thought we'd been through this before," Severus growled, somewhat more exasperatedly than warranted.

"Well, yes, but I didn't think she'd actually be helping already, and-"

"Harry," Severus loudly interjected. "If you don't mind…?" he waved his hand at the book in front of him, and Harry quieted.

"I have a bit of reading to do," Severus quietly said as he lowered his gaze to the book. "We're finished here. Go find Miss Granger, or the Headmaster, if you have more questions, and return with the former at six tonight. And do try to be prompt."

Harry frowned slightly as he grudgingly complied with his father's request. "_Sorry_," he muttered, reaching for the door.

"Blast it all, Harry!" Severus yelled, thumping his hands down on the table in front of him. "I have just lost my value to the order, had to endure 4 hours of questioning at the hands of the Headmaster and those relentless, gnashing hounds the ministry refer to as Aurors, and there is mind numbing pain shooting from my left forearm all the way up to my cerebral cortex! Add to that sum '20 questions' from you and all this damned reading, and consider just _why_ I am so bloody irritable!"

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving!" Harry yielded as he slipped out the door, before Severus could continue on his rant. "Didn't have to yell," Harry muttered quietly as he made his way down the corridor, heading for the library, where he would most likely find Hermione. As little as Harry wanted to admit it, it was a bit unsettling and somewhat hurtful to be talked to that way again. He didn't like being thought of as a thorn in his father's side. Yes, Severus had valid complaints to make him so irascible, but Harry had just been trying to ask questions.

"Harry!" a small voice exclaimed quietly. He turned around and saw Hermione heading towards him.

"Hermione," he returned. He offered a smile; she lifted her hand and smacked him smartly across the head. As if that was what he needed after Severus' little outburst.

"One of these days, Harry James Potter," she said in a trembling voice, looking on the verge of tears. "Your antics are going to get you killed!"

She threw her arms around his neck, and coming out of the shock of all her turning emotions, Harry grasped her as well. Girls could be so odd at times.

"We were so worried," she confessed, muffling her voice in his shirt. "When I realized you and Ginny were gone from the common room, well first, first I thought you two had run off somewhere to be alone… but then I ran into Ron and he told me that she'd started dating Justin Finch Fletchy just last week, and I didn't know where you could have gone off to for such a long time! And we went to get Headmaster Dumbledore, but he was already gone, and so we went to McGonagall and she said that the portraits in his office had informed her that he had just left, on his way to rescue you two, and… oh Harry!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry said, mostly to console her. "I didn't mean to give you such a fright."

"Well it's just that normally, we're included in these things, or at least have a general idea of what's going on…"

"I know," Harry said quietly.

"You've been so withdrawn, lately," Hermione murmured. "Are you still depressed about…?"

"About Sirius?" Harry finished, and was surprised when a much duller pain then normal rifled through his chest. "No, I don't think I am. I've just been… well, busy, you know. It's not exactly been an uneventful term."

"No, I suppose it hasn't," Hermione allowed, nodding her head to the side.

"Severus said you found the book with the full instructions on how to make the Potion?" Harry said, delicately switching topics. Hermione took the bait.

"Oh yes! Once he'd rattled off that list of ingredients, it wasn't difficult to ascertain what kind of potion he was talking about, and once you know the type of brew, you can easily find the book containing it."

"Where'd you find it?"

"The restricted section, of course."

"Of course. Is it going to be very difficult?"

Hermione gave him a dubious look. "All that time to make, all those ingredients, all those magical properties that must be so intricately weaved together to form one, united, powerful substance strong enough to give the drinker almost supernatural strength against his foe, and you think it could possibly be an easy task?"

"Well I was just asking," Harry defended him, shrugging.

"Hmm," Hermione murmured. "I take it you'd like to see the book?"

"Yes, I would, actually."

"I'll run and fetch it, and you can read through it while I finish this weekend's homework."

"Is it in the common room?" Harry inquired, and Hermione shook her head.

"No, I can't take books out of the restricted section anymore. Apparently a nasty hex book got passed around the Slytherin common room earlier this year; resulted in a foul bit of work for Madame Pomfrey, once the first years got hold of it."

"The first years?" Harry exclaimed. "I would have thought the seventh would be the worst."

"No, dangerous curses are far more dangerous in the hands of an innocent, naïve child, who knows not when to wreak havoc, nor can comprehend the amount of damage a spell will do," Hermione explained, leading Harry over to the restricted section.

"Funny," Harry muttered. "I always thought Malfoy seemed quite capable of appropriately estimating the damage that could be done with a spell in our younger years."

"Well, perhaps I should correct myself," Hermione allowed. "Younger students don't comprehend the full consequences of those actions. Damage always seems wonderfully easy to reverse, when you're young." She paused a second, then smiled. "Ah, here you go," she declared, picking a velvety green book out of the row and handing it to Harry. "Page 638."

"Thanks," Harry said quietly, flipping pages as they chose a table. "Looks like a recent book."

"It's a modified version of an older one," Hermione informed him. "That's why it was so easy to pinpoint the spell we needed to use; this book is actually a condensed, modernized form of a book all about ancient blood magicks, written during Voldemort's first reign. This little treasure contains just about every blood related spell or potion that could be used against Voldemort. Given how much blood he causes others to shed, and how strong a magical ingredient it is, there are quite a few of them in there. It's also written in terms much easier to understand- some of the old spells are actually completely written in Latin, in earlier versions, and the others are far too complicated to understand. At least for most people."

Harry chuckled. "I suppose you consider yourself a bit above those people?"

A wounded look crossed Hermione's face. "No… well, a bit, yes…"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," Harry said. After a moment, he said. "You know, I'm actually a bit surprised you haven't taken it upon yourself to learn the whole Latin language."

"I do wish they'd offer it as a class, here," she admitted, chewing on the end of her quill. "But depending on the field I go into after my schooling here is finished, I may still learn to speak and read it fluently."

"Fascinating," Harry jested good-naturedly, skimming over the text. Apparently, this _was_ going to be quite complicated. "I hope Severus isn't expecting me to brew much of this," Harry said, half to himself.

"That's why he's including me, remember?" Hermione teased, a glint of humor in her eyes as she smirked up at him. "You're utterly useless with this sort of thing."

"I am not useless!" Harry retorted, half laughing. "I just don't perform well under pressure."

"Says the Boy-Who-Continues-To-Live," Hermione quipped. "Despite-The-Constant-Dangers-He-Faces-Mainly-Out-Of-Sheer-Stupidity."

"Don't push it, Hermione," Harry warned her playfully, animatedly reaching for his wand.

Hermione laughed, but took his advice and went back to work. He skimmed the rest of the text, growing bored. It really wasn't as interesting as Hermione might have made it out to be.

xxx

"You really think he'd be so displeased if we didn't come?" Harry questioned desperately, as Hermione dragged him down the corridor towards Snape's quarters.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He wanted us there at six. In your words, _promptly_. I will not have my standing with him worsened, even slightly- I happen to care very much that I have the respect of my professors, especially when that professor happens to be the father of one of my best friends."

"Yes, but he was in such a _horrible _mood when I left…"

"And as he had the graciousness to explain why, I'm sure you can understand and deal with it," Hermione said, if not a bit forcefully, as she tightened her grip on his arm. "Besides, do you really want to worsen his mood?"

"No," Harry said sullenly, dragging his feet.

"Oh honestly," Hermione huffed, reaching Snape's door.

"Honestly what?" Severus inquired as he reached the door from the opposite end of the hall at the same time.

"I- Good evening, sir," Hermione greeted him, avoiding the question. He raised an eyebrow and narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but returned the greeting with a nod.

Harry looked his father over. "What've you been up to?" he asked casually, receiving a sharp poke in the side from Hermione.

"I was seeing the Headmaster about a solution for this tedious pain," Severus said, opening his door.

"Did you find one?" Harry asked, receiving another pointed glare from the friend at his shoulder.

"Yes, thank Merlin," Severus muttered, lighting a fire. "I trust you've brought the necessary materials, Miss Granger?"

"Yes, sir," she said, immediately starting forward and emptying the contents of her bag, one by one, on the low oak table in the sitting room.

Severus nodded in approval, and then turned to Harry. "In the next hour, we will talk about some very serious things. While I trust you, I'm not entirely sure I trust your rash nature…" he paused here, a pained look gracing his face, and extended his hand. "I am going to ask you for your wand."

"What could you possibly say that would make me need my wand?" Harry questioned, alarmed.

"Harry," Severus sighed, frustrated. "Do me a service and comply without further argument, before I incriminate myself."

"What?"

"Harry, he means he doesn't want to say something that could be taken as hurtful," Hermione clarified impatiently. "Now just hand over the wand?"

"I can't believe you think me so impulsive and lacking in self-discipline that you need to take my wand to have a conversation," Harry snapped, standing to reach into his robe pocket and hand it to his father.

"I haven't known you long enough to guess otherwise," Severus said, tucking it away. "I'll give it back when we're finished."

"Yeah," Harry responded snappishly, sitting down on the couch and looking a bit miffed. Hermione and Severus actually exchanged glances, before going on.

"Previously, we had the problem of securing several ingredients," Severus started, lifting a tome from another table and lying it open on the table in front of Hermione and Harry. "This is, of course, the first step to beginning the potion. The Veela Hair, I think, shall be difficult to acquire on short notice, and expensive, but I'm sure that won't be a problem, with Dumbledore helping us. But it's more common in France than it is here-"

Hermione cut in. "I can write Viktor Krum and ask him to write Fleur-"

"Or," Severus cut in somewhat sardonically, giving Hermione a rigid look, "we could have the Headmaster floo-call the latter."

Hermione flushed. "Yes, that would be easier," she agreed quietly. Severus merely nodded.

"Sir," Harry said. "How are we going to secure the blood and Oath of secrecy from a Death Eater… and the flesh of Voldemort… if you, well, you know…"

"Yes," Severus said uneasily. "Well, this is the part that I thought might anger you-"

"Dumbledore's not making you go back, is he?" Harry said slowly… dangerously.

"No," Severus breathed, avoiding eye contact. He moved around the couch, while Harry and Hermione watched him, looking deep in thought. "I spoke with Draco Malfoy earlier- after you left, Harry. I believe he is the best possible source for our ingredients."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "If Malfoy isn't a Death Eater, then…" he broke off, seeing the change in Severus' expression at that last bit. "He's becoming a Death Eater, isn't he?"

Their eyes connected, but Severus gave no answer.

"Isn't he?" Harry demanded, raising his voice. "Just when I was beginning to trust the little git, he turns around and-"

"Harry, wait a moment," Severus said, stepping around the table and urging Harry back into his chair by his shoulders.

"Wait a moment? For what? To be stabbed in the back again? You know, you'd think there's no one I can trust- in fact, Hermione, is there anything you'd like to share with me?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, hurt.

"What Draco did is much more complicated than a simple betrayal, so let me explain before you finish this little outburst," Severus said forcefully, crossing his arms.

"Little outburst," Harry muttered to himself. "Oh, go ahead, explain," Harry said with a sarcastic wave of his hand, at the narrowing of Snape's eyes. "Explain what justifies _joining the Death Eaters_!"

"I joined the Death Eaters once upon a time, you do realize!" Severus snapped at him, looking affronted. "No, I suppose nothing justifies it, especially where you Gryffindors are concerned, but perhaps there are some ways to atone for it! So listen, before you jump to your rash conclusions and begin wielding the sword of blame and condemnation!"

"Well I didn't mean-" Harry started defensively, only to be cut off by Severus.

"It's perfectly clear what you meant!"

This is why it always came in handy to have Dumbledore standing by, to keep such fights from escalating. On the inside, Severus knew he ought not to be yelling at the boy in front of him, especially after his gruff treatment this afternoon, but he really didn't think he could help it. He hadn't been angered by Harry's statement… he had been wounded. And, impenetrable brick wall he was used to being, that was a difficult emotion for him to deal with… so here he was, making things ten times worse, by lashing out at the boy. Honestly, it was doubtful whether either one of them would survive the upcoming holiday at this rate, let alone the entire summer to follow.

But Harry had touched somewhere deep… not with his comments about Death Eaters, but when he had reached out to his father in that cellar. When they had shared smiles and civil conversation… it had been… was nice the right word? Well, supposing it was, yes, it had been nice. And now, he felt like it was right back to square one. He was getting better, day by day, at forgiving himself for his past mistakes. But would Harry ever forgive him?

Harry hadn't meant to offend Severus, he really hadn't. Not one part of him had intended to insult Severus by insulting anyone who would join them… and yet, he knew he had. But somehow, he was so used to going into defensive mode that he didn't' quite know how to stop arguing. If he calmly apologized and said what he was thinking, it would feel like admitting defeat. And part of him was still aware that Hermione was in the room with them- ah, yes, there she was, standing in the shadows, trying to be inconspicuous as possible. She was clearly uncomfortable- but still listening with rapt attention to their- ah- debate… and he didn't want to sacrifice his pride… not in front of one of his best friends.

"Fine," Harry finally breathed, trying to gracefully end the fight. "Explain to me… about Malfoy."

Severus stared at him for a moment, slightly put off by the way Harry had changed the topic of the argument, but he allowed it. After all, they needed to get through this… but they would talk later. About multiple things.

"Draco's opinion of Dumbledore has… never been a fond one, to state it lightly," Severus began. "Thick as he may sometimes be, he is one of the most observant boys I've ever taught- he learned that from his father. He watches and mentally takes notes, and he doesn't forget the things that are said and done by others. He's more than aware of how Dumbledore tends to treat people… do you understand what I mean by that?"

Severus was the first to admit that Dumbledore wasn't perfect… but with Hermione Granger in the room, a girl who seemed (at least from what Severus had seen) to stake her life on having the trust, approval, and favoritism of her teachers… he didn't trust himself to speak too freely of his employer.

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "The way he always has a plan… and whether you like it or not, you end up following it."

"Precisely," Severus agreed. "For some reason, Draco has it in his head that if he goes to the Headmaster for help… he'll be indebted to the old man, and he insists that this would be far worse than joining the Dark Lord."

Hermione made a scoffing noise from her place in the background, and Harry frowned. "I asked you to call him Voldemort," he said.

Severus quirked an eyebrow in challenge, and Harry realized how rudely that had come out. "I mean," he quickly corrected, "please- call him Voldemort?"

"Better," Severus conceded. "I, of course, tried to convince the boy of the stupidity of his logic, but he would have none of it.

"You see, his father seems determined to have him inducted into the Death Eaters before Christmas this year-"

"A fine gift," Harry muttered. This seemed to amuse Severus, but only slightly, as he neutralized his expression only a moment later and carried on.

"And, unfortunately, we are in no position to stop it."

"Well why not?" Hermione spoke up, for the first time in twenty minutes. "I mean, we know ahead of time- can't we find a way to force him to stay here, or-"

"And out of his parent's hands? You cannot forcibly keep a child from his parents, Miss Granger, unless he wishes for you to do so and has sufficient evidence that he's being abused. What's more, we have only my word on what's to happen during the holidays, and that's hardly evidence enough to stop _Lucius Malfoy_, one of the world's most connected men, from getting to his son."

"And what about after?" Hermione asked.

"It will still be of no use. There are spells that can be used to hide a Dark Mark, so none of the teachers will notice it."

"But you'll know it's there!" Harry protested.

"Yes, but that's where things become very complicated," Severus said. "If he were to be arrested- well, first of all, it's highly doubtful that they would send a child to Azkaban. Second of all, how could we possibly get any inside information that way?"

"Wha- well, Malfoy already said he wouldn't work for Dumbledore, right? So how would we get any anyways?"

"Just because he won't 'enslave himself to an old, doddering fool like Dumbledore', as he so eloquently stated it," Severus said, half rolling his eyes, half smirking. "Does not mean he's not somewhat willing to give us information- and the ingredients we require for the potion."

"In exchange for what?" Hermione asked coldly. Severus turned and smirked at her, his black eyes glinting with unidentifiable thoughts.

"Don't miss a beat, do you Miss Granger?" he asked oddly, and then turned back to Harry. "He wants your testimony. When all this is over… that's what he wants. A ticket out of Azkaban."

"Very clever," Hermione commented from behind, crossing her arms.

"That's a Slytherin," Severus said, nodding his head. "So, Harry; what shall I tell him?"

"Tell him that I want to speak to him privately," Harry said, folding his arms.

"I'm not sure that's such a wonderful idea, Harry," Hermione said.

"And why not?"

"Because if nothing else, Draco Malfoy is a Slytherin- no offense, sir," she said apologetically, glancing at Snape. "But he's manipulative, deceitful, and he'll know just how to talk to gain your trust and give himself loopholes. You're not the best at paying careful attention to detail."

Harry started to argue, but Severus forestalled him with a look, and agreed with Hermione. "The girl's right; Draco Malfoy would talk circles around you. What, you doubt my word?" he asked at Harry's dubious look. "Given a few more years of his father's influence, he'd most likely be able to persuade you to sell your very soul."

"He's never struck me as that intelligent," Harry muttered, looking resentful at what was seemingly praise of another boy by his father.

"Well, his strength has never been in the area of subtlety, no," Severus allowed, "nor does he have tremendous skill at stealth or sound reasoning- but remember, he is in my house for a reason."

Harry laughed. "I always thought it was just because he was a bully."

"Being a Bully has nothing to do with the traits of a Slytherin!" Severus snapped, narrowing his eyes sharply at Harry. "You should know that, after last year."

Harry immediately flushed. Not only at the statement itself and the memories it tugged to the surface, but also at the harsh, resentful tone to his father's voice. He had hoped they would move past that quickly; he could see now this wasn't going to be the case.

"I said I was sorry for that," Harry said quietly, looking up at Severus.

Severus stared at him for a moment, jaw tightened and teeth grinding within his mouth. He hadn't meant to snap like that… he hadn't meant to do or say a fair few of the things that he had today. This was perhaps the scariest part of learning he was Harry's father; he'd come to know the boy, and he wanted to be a good father to him, and he wanted to be closer to the boy, and he wanted to be able to control his temper… but he wasn't sure he would be able to. It was more complicated than he'd ever imagined it would be.

"Perhaps," he said stiffly, "this isn't the best time to discuss this… any of this."

"Do you want us to leave, sir?" Hermione inquired softly.

"Again?" Harry added grudgingly, sitting back and folding his arms.

"No, that is exactly what I don't want," Severus muttered, resting his hands on the back of the couch. "Not until we've resolved what you plan to do about this."

"What, are you afraid I'll go ruin the whole plan?" Harry asked.

"For a lack of better words, yes," Severus said, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't need to be babysat!"

"You've proved otherwise in the past."

"I'm capable of controlling myself! You don't have to do it for me!"

"As your father," Severus said, stressing the last word, "it is my responsibility to guide you where your judgment may be clouded."

"Fine," Harry said. "So what, I'm hereby held hostage until you hear what you want out of me?"

Severus' eyes widened slightly; he snapped his open mouth shut, and then very slowly responded. "I have no wish to deal with you when you are like this. Go to bed, and I will talk to you in the morning."

"Are you kidding? You're _sending me to bed_?"

"No, I am quite serious about this. Goodnight."

"But-"

"_Goodnight,_" Severus said more forcefully. The warning note in his voice was enough to deter Harry from further arguments, but his anger was not abated. He glared at his father for a moment, and finally stomped past him, slamming the door with far more force than was necessary to adequately close it.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, and then turned to address Hermione. She spoke first, however. "Sir, I know you're very tired, but if I could have a word with Harry before I leave?"

"Be my guest," Severus scoffed, gesturing towards Harry's closed door.

"Thank you," she said, turning and heading towards Harry's room.

Hermione knocked on his door. There was no response. She turned towards Snape, who was watching with a doubtful look on his face. "The doors won't lock without a special charm issued by myself," he said. "Let yourself in." He nodded toward the door, and Hermione reached down for the knob. He was right, it wasn't locked.

She entered the room and ducked a flying pillow.

"Oh, it's you," Harry said grudgingly. "Thanks for all your help out there."

"Shut up, you idiot," Hermione said heatedly, crossing her arms. "You are acting like a five year old. Do you even realize how immature and completely irrational you are being right now?"

"Don't try to tell me off like I'm-"

"Well someone has to, and you'd better shape up before Professor Snape does it, because he's going to be a lot less indulgent than I am apt to be!"

"You're telling me. The man has the worst temper-"

"Don't, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head with an almost deadly look in her eyes. "You deserved to be reprimanded a lot more than you were, and you should know it. The worst temper- you want to talk about the worst temper? Look at yourself! The man attempts to have a civilized discussion with you about the problems at hand, and you go completely off on him and act like he's treating you so horribly- he's not, Harry."

"Where does he get off thinking he can-"

"Keep you from making stupid mistakes? Give you advice?"

"He talks down to me, like I'm an idiot!"

"You're being oversensitive," Hermione snapped. "He is your father- this is what you've wanted your whole life, and now that you've finally got it, you're doing your very best to make sure you get rid of it again."

"A parent isn't supposed to treat you like they own you."

"He doesn't- he treats you like he's responsible for you, which he is. No offense, Harry, but you're not exactly the best authority on how a father should behave. You've certainly never had a good look at what a family should be like. You lived in a house where you saw good parenting as doting on one's child and yielding to all of said child's demands."

"I never thought that was good parenting," Harry said.

"And yet that's what you're expecting."

"He's not even trying."

"He's trying a hell of a lot more than you are."

xxx End Chapter 31 xxx


	32. Negotiation

Chapter 32

Negotiation

xxx

"I am trying!" Harry defended himself. "How would you even know? It's not as if you've been around to observe my every action; you're judging based on my reaction to Severus' treatment of me."

"_Harry_," Hermione ground out irritably; she glared at him for a moment, and then sighed, attempting to get control of her temper. Rubbing her forehead and slumping her shoulders in concession, she moved to sit next to him on the bed. "I thought you understood how much he's going through. You can't expect him to be perfectly cheerful after a day like this, when it's a struggle just for him to be tolerant."

"Well, I know, it's just-" Harry paused for a moment. "I don't know. But aren't I allowed to be upset every once in awhile? Do I have to be agreeable all the time?"

"No, I suppose that would be asking too much. But I just don't think you realize how… well, childlike you are being, and how… potentially unpleasant you are making it for Professor Snape to be around you right now."

"Yeah, well, that's why he sent me to bed, isn't it?" Harry retorted grudgingly. "So he could rid himself of my presence."

"I doubt that's the case," Hermione said. "More so you can calm down and think rationally before he gets a final answer from you. He just wants to make it as easy as possible for you to do what's best in this situation; it's almost quite touching, Harry. I don't think I ever would have believed that he was so caring an individual. Well, caring isn't the right word," she allowed, at Harry's dubious look. "Just… attentive… receptive. Wise; a good guardian- provider of guidance, I guess. I suppose in all his years of teaching, he's learned how to effectively deal with minors, even if he hasn't really bothered himself with doing so… until now. Be thankful, Harry. You have someone to take care of you now; you don't have to make all the decisions on your own."

Harry remained silent, and Hermione sat with him for another few moments. "Well, I suppose I'd better go," she finally said, rising from the bed and smoothing out her skirt. "Think about what I've said, and do try to be a bit more patient. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know."

It was with that final note that she left Harry alone, and entered the main rooms once more. Severus was sitting on his couch, gazing thoughtfully into the flames he'd kindled in the fireplace.

"Well," she said, a bit awkwardly. "I- umm- thank you for having me here, tonight, Professor. I expect you'll be contacting me if I'm needed again?"

"Certainly," Severus said with a nod, and tearing his eyes from the warm light, he raised his eyebrows. "And in the future, Miss Granger, you might take care to place a silencing charm on the rooms in which you intend to speak so audaciously."

Hermione flushed a deep color, and Severus nodded. "I suppose I should thank you for your… ah… support- though I beg you not to begin a silly campaign for me, like the S.P.E.W. organization you attempted to orchestrate in your fourth year. That would be most unnecessary."

"I recognize that, sir," she muttered quietly, willing the pink color still tinting her cheeks to go away. "I'm sorry if I said anything that was out of line… but I felt it was better coming from me than… well, you have to understand that Harry will always forgive his friends."

"I… understand," Severus said with difficulty, as though it pained him to agree with Hermione Granger. "The adults in his life have consistently failed him, and he feels I'm bound to do the same. Hence, I have exercised a certain amount of leniency with him… trying as that may have been."

"Well," Hermione said, looking at the ground. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing an excellent job."

Severus had the grace to nod, but could hardly bring himself to say thank you. He wasn't sure, after all, that she was right.

"Yes, well," he said, rising from the couch. "I'm certain I'll be seeing you tomorrow," he said, opening the door for her to exit. Clearly being dismissed, she did so, bidding him a polite goodnight on her way out.

Finally, Severus was alone.

xxx

"It's nearly noon, are you going to get up or are you going to stay in there and sulk all day?"

Harry sat up groggily, rubbing the back of his head. He hadn't meant to sleep so late, but apparently, he'd been much more tired than he'd realized. His door was still shut, so that was something; Severus was respecting his privacy. That was nice; with a stab of guilt, Harry realized that after last night, he wouldn't have expected that courtesy. At least, not from his Aunt and Uncle.

"I'll be up in a minute," Harry reluctantly replied. He would have liked to go back to sleep until Monday, when Severus would be back to classes. He hardly wanted to face the man after… well. Hermione had been right, and he was ashamed, to say the least. What had he been so angry about? What had driven him to act like that?

He rose and pulled on the pair of trainers nearest to his bed. He fetched the shirt he'd been wearing yesterday from the hook on the back of the door, and donning it, left his room.

He was greeted by the pleasant smell of breakfast foods; odd, considering Severus had said it was already noon. The older man was seated at his table, sipping a cup of what looked to be coffee, and looking over a copy of the Daily Prophet. He wasn't reading it, though; his eyes were fixed in one spot, staring unseeingly at the middle of the page. Harry suspected, with a wave of relief, that he was saving Harry the awkwardness of meeting his intense gaze as he walked across the room. He was making himself look preoccupied, in order to… was it to put Harry at ease?

"I thought it was noon," Harry said quietly. Severus looked up at him and set the paper aside. "It was, but when nine came around and you were still soundly asleep, I decided it would be a good time to make the potions you'll be using as constants in class this week. I suppose I got a bit carried away in it."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down at his hands resting on the back of the chair.

"You may sit, you realize," Severus said slowly, and Harry realized he hadn't done so yet.

Wordlessly, the younger boy sat, and Severus regarded him for a moment. "Well," he said, sounding atypically ill at ease. "Would you… care for breakfast?" The expression on his face was one of forced politeness, and wasn't very convincing, but Harry appreciated it anyways.

"Yeah, thanks," he said quietly. Severus nodded and moved to fix them each a plate. He hoped the boy realized how very hard he was trying; because he really was. He had never been one for small talk or pleasant conversation over meals, but after his snappishness yesterday, Harry's subsequent behavior, and Miss Grangers subtle hints alluding to his temper, he decided that he would have to put in the effort. After all, as a child, he'd never enjoyed the wordless family dinners he'd been forced to endure… in fact, at times, they'd been downright excruciating to tolerate. He was determined not to force the same experience upon Harry.

Severus set a plate out in front of the boy, and returned to his own seat. "I thought this might be a good time to discuss what you'd like to do during the Christmas Holidays," Severus commented idly, careful to sound delicately impassive.

Harry looked up in surprise; Severus wanted to talk about this? He had firmly expected to be reprimanded for his behavior from before… but he wasn't going to bring it up now, if Snape was willing to avoid the subject for the moment.

"What did you have in mind?" Harry asked.

"Well, I haven't any favorite Holiday pastimes, if that's what you're asking. I know you've always stayed here or visited the Weasleys, however, and don't wish to force you away from those traditions, if you're so inclined to have them."

"No," Harry quickly said. "I mean, I'd like to see the Weasleys at some point, yeah, but…"

"Well," Severus said a bit more casually than Harry believed was natural, "I could make arrangements for us to… leave, if you'd like."

"Leave where?"

"Well, I normally spend my summers and other time outside of Hogwarts in a small house… modest, not very lovely… in a muggle neighborhood, but now that the Dark- Voldemort," he bit the name out, "is out for my blood… I think returning there would be foolish. I have a manor- inheritance, from my family, that I've left untouched for years- but it's hidden, and it's adequate to my- to our needs, if you'd like to go there."

"I'd like to see it… yes," Harry said, a bit more hopefully than he'd hoped to express himself. "That is, if you're alright with it."

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I weren't," Severus commented dryly. "Well, we can do that then… and I'm sure the Weasleys would love to see you on Boxing Day, if you'd like to go then."

"Yes, I'd like that very much."

"And you may of course see more of your friends, if you wish," Severus added dispassionately, focusing on his plate. Not surprisingly, kindness was proving to be one of the most difficult emotions for Severus to allow himself to reveal as he came to know Harry. It was a feeling and an action he'd grown quite unaccustomed to displaying in the past 16 years.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly. Severus nodded curtly. The two sat in silence for the following fifteen minutes, each man focusing intently on the food in front of him, but neither paying much attention to its actual consumption.

"I'm really sorry," Harry said after a while, not quite meeting Snape's eyes. "I was out of line last night."

"You were," Severus agreed stiffly, nodding. "I'm glad you can see that."

"Well, I had a bit of a push," Harry admitted.

"I heard."

Both smiled slightly at that. It could never be said that Hermione was meant to be a Ravenclaw; despite her brains, she didn't lack one ounce of the Gryffindor boldness her House was famous for.

"I just… it was a bit overwhelming, all that, after all that had just happened," Harry explained rather lamely, picking up his fork and pushing his food around the plate. "I'm not very good at controlling my temper," he admitted, looking back up at Severus.

"Well," Severus said, a stern expression replacing the slightly softer one he'd held before, "I suggest that you attempt to improve that particular skill. I fear that my recent leniency with you may give you the notion that I will allow this sort of behavior in the future; do not be mistaken, it will not. I still demand the same respect of you as I did when you were merely my student, is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied quietly.

"Understand that I will hold you to this agreement in the future," Severus said, evaluating Harry's expression carefully. He was surprised that this had not elicited a resentful reaction from the boy; if experience had taught him anything, it was that Harry Potter was nothing if not impertinent to authority and too arrogant to follow the rules. The look on Harry's face, however, displayed neither of those feelings.

"Now," Severus said, assuming a more conversational tone. "I can understand if you'd like to speak to Draco Malfoy yourself," he conceded. "I offer you a compromise; you may negotiate with him, but I will be present. I want to make sure that nothing escapes our attention; this is very important."

"That's agreeable enough," Harry said, nodding. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, and they finished their meals in comfortable silence.

xxx

"How much blood do you need?" Hermione asked from atop the cleared table, examining, with a small amount of trepidation, the silver knife she was holding in her hands. Severus narrowed his eyes, running his finger over the text of the aged book they were using, and tapping at a spot on the page, his brow creasing. He looked up at Hermione with some concern.

"Harry," he said, picking up several vials and moving to her side. "Go to my store cupboard, and find the blood replenishing potion, please. It's labeled as such."

Harry wordlessly obeyed, and Severus turned to Hermione. "It would be better if you let me."

She winced slightly, but handed over the knife. "I suppose," she allowed, watching him warily as he sterilized the knife. "How much?" she repeated, glancing at the collection of vials he'd brought over.

"We should fill five of those," he admitted morosely. "The same amount from myself, and with some luck, Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes had widened slightly, but at his command, she held out her shaking arm and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

"Isn't there some spell we could use to extract the blood from her?" Harry asked from Severus side, having returned with the requested potion. "I mean, some less gruesome way."

"Doubtful," Severus said sardonically, glancing at his charge. "Without the training of a mediwitch, there's no way to know just where you are drawing the blood from- it could prove quite severe if a mistake were to be made."

"Oh," Harry muttered, feeling dumb.

"Quite," Severus murmured, running his eyes up and down Hermione's arm, searching for the telling sign of a vein in a dark purple streak. "I think," he said, pressing the cool edge of the knife to a spot just below the crook of her elbow, "that we can cut right there, and extract enough blood without severing the vein or causing uncontrollable bleeding."

"You think?" Hermione asked, voice high and frightened.

"Never fear, Miss Granger," Severus drawled, making the incision. "You're in safe hands." His tone was cynical and mordant at best, but nevertheless, believable.

"What, because you've bled so many people?" Hermione inquired in a mildly frantic, uptight tone, as if challenging his previous statement.

His gaze flickered to hers, and with his silence, she understood. He had; he was a Death Eater- the main Potions provider to Voldemort and his followers. He had of course done this before. Ironically… this notion relaxed her a bit.

"I'm going to make the incision here, Harry," Severus said, indicating a spot on her arm with the blade of his knife and handing Harry one of the vials. "I shall need your assistance."

Glancing first at Hermione's expression, Severus made a quick but precise movement with the blade of the knife, creating a deep but short gash in the crook of her arm.

"This is disgusting," Harry muttered, holding the vial below Hermione's arm for the blood to run into, as he had been instructed to do. What didn't make it into the vial was running onto his hands, and he didn't enjoy it one bit.

"Do try to make sure none of it is wasted," Severus barked, seeing the mess dripping from Harry's hands onto the clean stone floor. "We wouldn't want Miss Granger dying from blood loss due to your carelessness."

"Dying?" Hermione whispered in a strangled voice.

"Forgive me," Severus said evenly, raising an eyebrow.

"But-"

"You will not die," he snapped in annoyance. "Now please, I am _trying_ to concentrate!"

Hermione sucked in a dry sob, and Severus' eyes widened infuriately. "Miss Granger!"

This, of course, did not help, and more of these desperate, girlish sounds followed.

"Hermione, it's not a big deal-"

"I have a problem with blood, alright Harry?" Hermione snapped, choking back another sob. "It's just upsetting."

"You might have mentioned that before volunteering for this job," Severus growled, and then with a lightly sadistic touch to his tone, added, "I could have cut Weasley open instead."

"If she faints, you're going to regret it, Severus," Harry said, earning himself another caustic admonishment.

xxx

"There," Severus said about ten minutes later, as he put the final touch on the bandage he'd strapped onto Hermione's arm and gave her the last bottle of blood replenishing potion. "Not so bad, was it?"

"I thought it was awful," Hermione complained in a low voice, finishing off her series of potions.

Severus shrugged unapologetically and began to clean up his lab.

"We can do mine last of all, about two weeks from now, but we'll need Malfoy's soon," Severus said. "Miss Granger and I will be starting on the preparatory stage of the potion soon here, Harry; why don't you pen a missive requesting his presence in this lab later tonight? You can speak to him then."

"I suppose," Harry said. "May I borrow some parchment and a quill?"

"Yes, go into my office. They're in the top left drawer of my desk- and touch nothing else, for I shall know!" He called out after Harry, who was already walking through the door, rolling his eyes. Oh well, it was one step up; normally, Severus wouldn't have allowed Harry anywhere near his desk.

"I trust," Severus said, turning back to Hermione, "that you have already perused the text on preparation?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, nodding vigorously.

"Good," Severus replied. "Once you have ensured the cauldron we will be using is properly cleaned and sterilized, you may begin the formula for the dilution of the blood. It is of utmost importance that you perform this step with grievous care, you realize. If it's too strong, it will become highly volatile when we begin adding more to the potion."

"I'll do my best, sir."

"I don't want your best, I just want it done right," Severus growled, narrowing his eyes at her.

Rather than retort, Hermione nodded and went to work. Glad for this, Severus headed to his office to make note of the steps they were taking, for later reference in case something should go wrong.

As Severus might have expected, the moment he entered his office, there was a flurry of movement and a slamming of his desk drawer as Harry rushed to stash something that he'd found.

"Can I not trust you for five minutes alone in this office?" Severus barked angrily, taking quick strides towards his desk.

"I didn't mean to!" Harry yelled, scooting away from the desk.

Severus came to his desk and flattened his hands against it, glaring down at Harry. "You have _five_ _seconds_ to tell me what you were doing, before I find out myself and punish you like never before."

Harry hurriedly opened the drawer and grabbed at something, thrusting a small photograph at the Potions Master. "I swear, that's all I was looking at," he said, sitting back in Severus' chair.

Severus looked down at the picture in his hands. It was a photo of himself and Lily; she was laughing into his shoulder, and he was holding her with an amused smile on his face.

"I'm surprised you have pictures of her," Harry said quietly, looking down at the floor.

Severus nodded. "I forgot I had this," he said, running his callused thumb over it. "What were you digging for?"

"Ink," Harry replied, shrugging. Severus rolled his eyes and lifted a small black jar from his desk, opening it.

"Behold," he said, waving it under Harry's nose. "Ink."

"Right," Harry said sheepishly, grimacing. Severus shook his head and looked back down at the photo.

"Why were you so desperate to hide this?" Severus inquired, looking back up at Harry.

"I thought you would be angry with me."

"Angry about the photograph, or the fact that you were rummaging through my desk?"

"Both."

Severus considered Harry for a moment, holding the photo in his hands. He realized he'd hardly shared any of his past with the boy; naturally, the child must think he didn't intend to.

"Would you like this?" Severus asked, extending the picture.

Harry stared at him, his eyes a bit wide, for a moment. "Do you mean that?"

"_When _are you going to learn that I always mean what I say?" Severus asked, shaking his head.

Harry reached out and took the picture, smiling slightly. "Thank you," he murmured quietly.

Severus nodded and came around the desk to clasp Harry's shoulder, guiding him up and away from the chair. "Now," he said, his tone resuming its customary formality. "Why don't you go sit in the lab and write your letter, since you can't seem to resist the allure of my ever intriguing and oh so fascinating desk-"

"I was looking for ink!"

Severus chuckled quietly and gave Harry a light push into the next room.

xxx

It was four o' clock when two letters found their way into Malfoy's hands.

Malfoy wasn't at all amused that the Potions Master had decided to interrupt his planned evening with Pansy, to meet with _Potter_, no less. He was perfectly aware that the older man had set the time for a reason, but did it have to be so damned inconvenient?

Muttering angrily under his breath, Malfoy made his way down to the Potions classroom. He was walking briskly; it had been made perfectly clear in the letter following Potter's that though Harry was the one whom Malfoy would be speaking with, Snape would be overseeing the entire affair, and Malfoy was not to be late. He didn't think testing his Head of House's patience seemed like an entirely brilliant plan.

xxx

"He's late," Severus muttered, glancing up at the clock.

"By two minutes," Harry said, hiding a smile. So maybe his father wasn't as biased as he appeared to be. "Are you going to take points?"

"From my own house? Of course not," Severus replied, smirking.

…Or maybe he was.

A knock sounded at the door. "You can let him in," Severus said, folding his arms. He wasn't looking forward to this next hour, but he could see that if he didn't get it over with now, Harry would just meet with the boy behind his back, and that was the last thing Severus wanted.

Harry nodded and did as he was told.

"You're late," he said, as Malfoy walked through the door. Malfoy threw him an annoyed glare and turned to his head of house.

"You wanted to speak to me?"

"No, Harry wanted to speak to you," Severus said, nodding towards his son. "I'm just here to watch."

"Oh," Malfoy said, smirking knowingly. "Working on your impulse control there, Potter?"

"Oh, I trust Harry," Severus said, placing his hands behind him on his desk. "I'm here because I've yet to find reason for trusting _you_."

"Well," Malfoy sneered, throwing a nasty glance in Severus' direction. "There's a surprise. I should have known you wouldn't trust me, despite the repeated demonstrations of loyalty I've shown."

"Only because I know all too well of deceit, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said restrainedly, clasping his hands in front of him, careful to guard his tongue. He'd already been warned by Dumbledore not to push the boy away, but after years of showing the boy favor in interest of remaining on good terms with his father, it was difficult not to finally show his true feelings when he no longer had to keep the pretenses of loyal death eater and devoted friend to Lucius Malfoy.

"Yes, you certainly used a lot of it to get where you are today, didn't you sir?" Malfoy inquired with a delicately checked expression, balancing between innocent curiosity and outright jest.

"Just whose side are you on, Malfoy?" Harry interjected, imitating his fathers glare all too well.

"I wasn't referring to his betrayal of the Dark Lord," Malfoy answered, smirking.

"_Draco_," Severus said warningly, gaining the boy's attention.

"Ah, I understand. Some things are best kept between friends, right Severus?"

"I did not give you permission to use my first name," Severus snapped irritably. "And I suggest you work a little harder to earn my respect, because we are _least_ _of all_ friends. If you can't prove to me that you are worthy of higher standing in my eyes, then you shall remain from this point forward nothing more than a student, and not a well liked one at this rate."

"_Yes sir_," Malfoy replied, careful to keep his tone just shy of insolence. "Well, I suppose we should get down to the reason for my being here."

"I agree," Severus said stiffly. "Harry," he nodded towards the boy, indicating his turn to talk.

It was at this point that Harry realized he hadn't any form of plan for the coming conversation. He thought he'd had a pretty good idea of why he wanted to talk to Malfoy about when he'd demanded to do so, but upon reflection, he realized he'd really just wanted control for the sake of control. What was the point of this? Why hadn't he just let Severus handle this?

Well, if he was going to be an auror, he was going to have to learn how to deal with people in these situations. He decided the direct route was best for now; simple questions that Malfoy couldn't talk his way out of.

"First of all," Harry began, "I want to know _from you_ just why you are refusing to help Dumbledore."

Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked around lackadaisically. He didn't answer right away; rather, he singled out a chair on the other side of the room and pulled out his wand, flicking it and making it scoot across the room to him. He sat down at his own leisure, and then looked back up at Harry.

"I would think," he said, sitting back and crossing one leg over his other knee, "that you of all people would understand just why I don't want to be working for Dumbledore. Yes, Potter, I do mean _working for_; after all, by agreeing to give you and Professor Snape inside information, I am helping. The answer is simple; I do not wish to be under the control of a man who's lived so many years and had so many victories that he forgets his own infallibility. Power and praise delude one's sense of wisdom. He's so confident in the choices he makes that he overlooks all the small details, and sees people as a means to achieve an end, rather than as knowledgeable allies who have something significant to offer. He's rather like the Dark Lord himself, aside from the fact that his goals are much different and his tactics less severe."

"Dumbledore is nothing like the Dark Lord," Harry defended the headmaster, although he wasn't sure why.

"If that were true," Malfoy said smoothly, sitting forward, "do you really think that he would be the only wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever feared?"

Harry's brow lowered slightly as he considered this. He didn't quite understand. "What are you getting at?"

"The Dark Lord fancies himself the most powerful wizard in the world," Malfoy said, narrowing his icy grey eyes and lowering his voice, as though the slow rhythm of his voice and intense look on his face might, in and of itself, sway his adversary's opinion. "He believes his strategic way of thinking and powerful skills at manipulation are what set him apart from other wizards; these two things have never failed him. His attempt at immortality, however, did fail him, as do his uses of intimidation and blackmail- case A, Severus Snape," Malfoy said, jerking his head over his shoulder. "Dumbledore doesn't use the latter two, but he does possess that one skill that has never failed even the Dark Lord himself. The ability to use people as tools and _strategize_.

"Dumbledore's power is impressive, yes, but I believe the Dark Lord is more fearful of what might happen if he attempts to kill Dumbledore directly. What does he think might happen? Well, he can only guess, because he knows that Dumbledore's logic is at the same level as his own. He knows that Dumbledore _thinks the same way_.

"Now ask yourself this: if I don't wish to join the Dark Lord because I don't wish to be controlled, why would I wish to join someone who uses the same logic?"

Now Harry could see what Severus had meant when he'd said Draco Malfoy could talk circles around him. He wasn't even sure _what_ had just been said to him, but somehow, it made perfect sense in his mind. He'd gained one insight from that explanation, and he knew it was making him feel exactly how Malfoy had intended. The parallels between Dumbledore and Voldemort were all too obvious; they were almost like the same person… and Harry found himself, in that instant, having more faith in Malfoy than he felt he'd ever had in the Headmaster.

Severus was watching Harry and Malfoy carefully. He knew he'd have to deal with this later; Harry would no doubt be scrutinizing Dumbledore's actions very carefully, and more attention than necessary would be drawn to the man's every fault.

"I suppose that makes sense," Harry responded, trying to appear unfazed. However, for the life of him, he couldn't remember why he had doubted Malfoy's reasons for avoiding comradeship with Dumbledore. He knew he had to keep asking questions, though; he might never get the chance, otherwise. At least, not with Severus here, and he could confess now that he rather liked having the other man in the room.

"I believe your next question would most likely be, 'why are you joining the Death Eaters?'," Malfoy said snidely, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Hey, I'm supposed to be asking the questions here," Harry objected, mildly irritated.

"Oh, I'm wrong then?" Malfoy inquired sardonically, raising his eyebrows.

"Mr. Malfoy," Severus interjected from his side of the room. "You are here to answer Mr. Potter's questions, not direct him away from the questions you don't want to answer. Kindly restrict your remarks to factual rejoinders to Mr. Potter's inquiries."

"Fine," Malfoy replied calmly, turning around to face Harry again. "Your next question then, _Mr. Potter_."

"Yes," Harry said, trying to appear as calm and collected as the other two in the room were. How did they stay so… stoic? "I-" he paused, and then realized that there was nothing else for it. He could think of only one question. "Why do you want to become a Death Eater?"

Malfoy suppressed a snicker, mainly for the sake that Severus was in the room, and composed himself before answering. "I don't _want_ to become a Death Eater, Potter," he said.

Damn. A good answer.

"Fine then," Harry said, sounding a bit more frustrated and petulant than he'd meant to be. "Why _are _you joining the Death Eaters?"

"Because I have no other choice," Malfoy replied simply.

"_Mr. Malfoy_," immediately came Severus' dangerous voice.

"_What?_" he replied exasperatedly. "You asked me for nothing more than simple, factual rejoinders, correct?"

"I said factual. There was no mention of simplicity. Elaborate."

"In which way, Professor?" Malfoy inquired sweetly.

"I want to know," Harry said, voice raised, before Severus could bite out a retort. "Why you have no other choice."

"Judging by the skeptical tone to your voice, I'd say you don't believe this is true, Potter."

"At the moment, I don't."

"It's complicated."

"So explain to me. What makes it so complicated?"

"Plenty of things," Malfoy replied. "My father, my desire to live-"

"Money? Selfish motivations-?"

" –the desire to provide valuable information for you!" Malfoy continued, voice finally raised above that level of calm he'd kept it at. "You know, I would think you'd be a little more grateful for my help-"

"This isn't about you, Malfoy!"

"Oh," Malfoy said, standing up and throwing his out arms exaggeratedly. "So it's about you?"

"Yes, it's about me," Harry replied. "For once, this can be about me. You're right, Malfoy, I do know better than anyone else how it feels to be manipulated, and I'm sick of it. It's time I start taking things into my own hands."

"Isn't that what got you in trouble before?" Malfoy retorted smartly.

"Before I had another pair of hands to guide me, instead of control me?" Harry replied, gaze flickering to Severus. "Yes. But now I'm being given the opportunity to start doing this on my own, and I'll be damned if I turn it into a meaningless argument rather than an informational inquiry. And I hate to break it to you, Draco Malfoy, but if we win, you have nothing without me. You are in no position to dictate the terms of this discussion. Right now, you are depending on me and my goodwill, because I don't have to do a thing for you."

Severus was fighting hard against his urge to smile- after all, it would be a highly inappropriate time to praise his son…. But he was so… proud. For once, he'd shown an ounce of wit and taken the situation into his own hands without any flashy shows of bravery or impulsiveness. He'd been almost Slytherin about it. Granted, he hardly delivered this little speech with the same cool, contemptuous air with which Severus himself would have done, but he was recognizing that he had power, and he was wielding it. That was good enough for Severus.

"So," Harry said, easing the silence that had descended upon the room. "Why, specifically, do you have no choice?

For a moment, both Harry and Severus were doubtful as to whether or not Malfoy would reply. The expression on his face was one of pure indecision; they could easily see that he was battling with himself whether or not to answer the question he was being asked. This could be attributed to the fact that Severus was in the room, and Malfoy knew that if anyone could recognize a lie, it was his Head of House. It could also be attributed to the fact that once Malfoy started giving up information, he was essentially handing Harry the reigns on his life. Anything he said could be used against him.

Apparently, Malfoy decided that he'd rather give Harry the control… as opposed to Voldemort, who was likely to be far more brutal.

"The Dark Lord is preparing to take on an apprentice," he started resignedly, gazing down at the floor. "Why, I'm not sure, yet, but it has been made clear that all the Death Eaters' children are to begin training. If I had to wager a guess, I'd say it's so that he can ensure that he has our allegiances before we are adults, and able to make our own decisions. My father has been… particularly hard on me. I doubt he'd take it very well if I informed him of my reluctance to join."

"You couldn't turn against him?"

"He's my father, Potter!" Malfoy bit out. "He's always been hard on me, but I still- I still care for him. If you had to choose between your family and a group of prejudiced, self-righteous vigilantes who didn't give a damn about you, what would you do?"

"Doesn't sound like there's much difference between the two, if you just exchange vigilante for the word criminal!"

"Harry!" Severus admonished, gaining the boy's attention. "That was uncalled for."

"Yes, sir," Harry responded grudgingly, returning his attention to Malfoy.

"Listen," Malfoy said resentfully, rising from his chair. "I know you don't understand what it's like to be raised the way I was, but it's not so easily done to just turn on your family like that." He snapped his fingers to emphasize the point, and circled around Harry.

"I know you want my wholehearted devotion for your cause, Potter, but the hard fact is that you won't gain it. You're going to have to settle for what you get, or depend on someone else to give you inside information for you, because I'm not teaming up with Dumbledore or any other of you crusaders for the light. I just won't."

Harry knew he was being given an ultimatum, but he also knew he'd be a fool to turn it down. Severus had made it quite clear to him, earlier that day, that they needed to begin their potion as soon as possible. Draco Malfoy was currently the only person that could guarantee them those few ingredients needed from the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. If he turned the other boy down now, and needed him later, Malfoy would be the one with control of the situation, not Harry. He'd be forced to bargain with the Slytherin, and do whatever he could to get his help. It seemed simpler to agree now.

"Fine," Harry replied, crossing his arms. "But you're going to have to do a lot to earn my trust."

"I haven't done enough already?" Malfoy asked incredulously.

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head. "You'll have to start by getting these things-" he paused to pull the folded list of ingredients out of his pocket. Behind him, Severus rolled his eyes at the crumpled state of the parchment. "We need them relatively soon- as soon as possible. I will also expect you to report weekly to Sever- Professor Snape, to, umm-"

"Just report to me weekly, Mr. Malfoy, or whenever you receive valuable information," Severus spoke up, laughing inwardly at the ironic combination of Harry's authorative manner, but relative lack of finesse. "Harry, is there anything else you wish to ask Mr. Malfoy?"

"No," Harry replied. "For now."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"You're released, Mr. Malfoy," Severus said, nodding at the pale haired boy. "Be wary that curfew falls in half an hour's time; I advise you to be back at the Slytherin common room at that time."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied. He sounded disappointed, making Harry think Severus had knowingly put an end to whatever mischief Malfoy had planned to get up to this night.

Malfoy gave Severus a nod goodnight, and left, paying no further attention to Harry. Once he was gone, Harry made his way over to Severus' desk and slumped down into the chair.

"That went miserably," he commented, fingering the parchments on Severus' desk.

"I think you handled it quite well," Severus said, a faint smile playing around his lips. "For a first time interrogator, that is," he teased, cuffing a hand over Harry's shoulder and steering him upwards.

"You're just saying that," Harry complained, though he was surprised to hear the sullenness disappearing from his own voice. Apparently, Severus' words of praise were more uplifting than he would have thought.

"I'm not," Severus defended himself, walking with Harry to the door. "I'm sure," he said, softening his voice and turning Harry to look him in the eye, "that you will make a fine auror, when all of this is said and done."

Harry was stunned by the combination of the kind look on Severus' face and the gentle note of his voice. It was the most sincere he'd ever seen the man. "Thank you," he said softly, smiling.

Severus inclined his head to the side, and then opened the door. "Can I trust you to make it to your common room before curfew?"

"Yes," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Be sure you do," Severus advised, raising his eyebrows. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight, sir."

AN: Whoo- final exams this week, I'm surprised I actually got this up. But, here it is!

Thank you so much to my wonderful betas, **Rlmess** and **Cithara.**

Thank you to my 150th reviewer, **Harrysmate**!

Reviews are appreciated!

…especially during this dark and gloomy time known as finals.

Thanks for reading!


	33. Rooibos and Pu'erh Tao Cha

Chapter 33

Rooibos and Pu'erh Tao Cha

xxx

Though Harry had faced many more formidable foes in the past, he couldn't help but to be a bit worried after taking some time with Ron on a Friday evening and secretly watching the Hufflepuff Quidditch team practice. Gryffindor had made some excellent additions to their team this year, yes, but the House of the Badger had made some considerably better ones.

Two sixth years that no one had ever seen play before were now in the beater's positions, and these two boys were far from weak. They worked in synchronization that rivaled even that of Fred and George Weasley, and they hit with the same precision that Slytherin House often depended on to defeat the other team. In addition to these two came a small second year girl, who, though shy and quiet looking at first, shone when she entered the field. She kept a level temper with her teammates, but as a seeker, seemed to be waging a war against the silver and gold snitch. She rode a well preserved Nimbus 2001, and while it paled in comparison to Harry's Firebolt, he worried that her small stature would still give her an advantage.

Always overlooked, no one suspected that Hufflepuff would be rising to become such a strong house. However, it seemed that the death of Cedric had spurred them forth to prove that their house was about much more than loyalty and kindness. The events of the previous year had allowed no house to shine, of course, but things were back to normal now, and competition (when it came to Quidditch) was fiercer than ever. They were certainly rising to meet the challenge.

"I'm not worried," Ron proclaimed boldly as they briskly walked back up the castle. "Their new additions beat ours, undeniably, but their keeper isn't that good."

"Well, I'd say that's a bit judgmental," Harry said, smiling. "Coming from you, that is, the world's greatest keeper."

"I'm not saying I'm the best," Ron countered defensively. "I'm just- well I am quite a bit better, yeah. But that's not the point; we've got a great trio of chasers, Harry."

"Yeah, but they've got two beaters that are going to make it extremely difficult for said trio," Harry objected. "And a seeker that might end the game before our chasers can do enough damage."

"You know what the best strategy is, then," Ron said, turning to Harry.

Harry nodded. "Get the snitch right away."

"Yeah, don't dawdle like you usually do," said a playful voice from behind. Harry and Ron turned around to find Hermione and Ginny heading towards them, laughing with each other.

"Where were you two?" Ron asked, looking back and forth between his sister and best friend, who exchanged a look.

"Maybe it's none of your business," Ginny replied haughtily, taking up stride with Harry and linking arms with him. Harry's eyes widened quickly as he looked down at their now joined arms, but Ginny didn't notice.

"Oh, hush up, Ginny, you'll make them think we were up to something," Hermione replied, looking around Harry to make eye contact with Ginny, who winked.

"What _were_ you doing?" Harry asked. His interest was now peeked.

"Well," Ginny started casually, twirling her hair with her free hand. "We _were_ just taking a walk, when we spied a very amusing sight. Imagine our surprise when we were circling the Quidditch stands while the Hufflepuffs practiced for the upcoming match, and we spotted two _Gryffindor_ boys, covertly dressed in maroon and gold jumpers and sporting locks of raven and red."

"Honestly, you two, taking up the very same Slytherin tactics that you complained about for years," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"I think you've been spending too much time around Snape," Ginny said to Harry, laughing.

"Ah, and Mr. Weasley's excuse?" Harry inquired, raising his eyebrows in an uncanny likeness to his father.

Ginny laughed again and shrugged. "Growing up with Fred and George, are you surprised?"

"True," Harry conceded, smiling down at her.

From their other side, Ron and Hermione exchanged knowing looks.

xxx

Somehow, Severus was unsurprised to witness the shameless flirting of his son and one Miss Ginny Weasley as he watched the four Gryffindors return to the castle from the window in Professor McGonagall's office. She reminded him strikingly of Lily at that age; she had the same fiery temper and hair to match it. She wasn't a bad student, either. He supposed that being the only girl in her family made her eager to prove her ability to succeed, much as Lily's muggle heritage had inspired her to do.

Severus shook his head and checked the time. Minerva had requested that he join her in her office that afternoon, though he couldn't imagine why. He hadn't unjustly punished or failed any of her precious Gryffindor students as of late, and she wasn't normally the type to have one around for tea and a friendly chat… not that he would have enjoyed that. Conversation with the Head of Gryffindor was not one of Severus' favorite pastimes; while he was polite to the woman, he had never particularly liked being around his former professor.

"Excellent, Professor, you're already here," McGonagall said as she briskly entered her office. She wasted no time in taking a seat and inviting him to do the same.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Minerva?" Severus returned, inclining his head to the side. He was careful to keep the sneer out of his voice and off his face, but as usual, started by addressing her by her first name, just to remind her that they were colleagues now, not teacher and pupil.

"Well, I see no point in exchanging pointless pleasantries, as I know you so loathe doing, Severus, so I'll get straight to the point." McGonagall sat forward and neatly folded her hands on her desk. Severus inwardly commented that she did a very poor job of imitating the Headmaster and his gestures.

"I must confess to you, Severus, that I am curious about the surplus time you and Potter have been spending together as of late. The alibi of Occlumency lessons satisfied me for some time, but when Potter began asking for you in the middle of the night and disappearing to your rooms for entire nights… well, you can hardly blame me when I say I've become suspicious."

Severus sat rigidly in his chair, grinding his teeth irritably. How dare this woman imply such a sordid thing to him? Sure, he was a Death Eater, but he wasn't that twisted. "Have you spoken to the Headmaster about these… suspicions?" Severus asked, curling his lip.

"The Headmaster has indicated to me that there is nothing… inappropriate occurring between you and the boy," McGonagall confessed, nodding. Severus tetchily wondered to himself why she had bothered bringing it up, in that case.

"He has also indicated to me that if I wish to learn what has happened between you and the boy, that I am to ask one of you."

So, the Headmaster had to be given credit there, Severus thought to himself. At least he had finally seen fit to stay out of Severus' affairs. Of course, now he was left with this highly uncomfortable situation, but he preferred it to the alternative.

Severus inhaled deeply and rubbed the back of his neck, rising from his seat and moving slowly towards the window. "If you truly must know, Minerva," he began, his tone a mixture of weariness and aggravation. "Do you recall my failed marriage with Lily Evans?"

"I do," McGonagall returned stiffly, nodding. It was no secret that she had disapproved of the coupling; she had never liked, nor trusted, Severus, and Lily had been her star Gryffindor, not unlike Hermione Granger.

"It is widely believed that it ended because she was unfaithful to me, or as phrased by some, that she finally saw the light," Severus paused here, willing the malice out of his tone. It would do no good to lose his temper due to mistakes of the past. "Even I had believed this."

Severus turned to face McGonagall. "During the few weeks before term, I learned the true reason for our failure. Lily discovered that I'd taken the Dark Mark, and pregnant, decided that she would tell me it was James' child, to help them both escape what seemed to be a dark future. She lied. It wasn't James' child."

The color slowly drained from McGonagall's face, and Severus indulged in a smirk of satisfaction. _Yes, Minerva,_, he thought to himself, relishing in her shocked expression. _You may pride yourself on being Harry Potter's Head of House, but _I _am his father. Are you glad you asked? _

"I'm assuming this means you are the boy's...father," McGonagall said, recovering herself and adopting an evaluating expression.

"You assume correctly," Severus said, nodding, and biting back on the snide remarks that came to mind.

"The boy knows, then?" McGonagall questioned, making it sound more like a statement.

"He does."

"And how is he taking it?"

"Well, Albus and I hope the suicide attempts will desist soon, but one can never tell," Severus retorted smartly, narrowing his eyes and curling his lip.

"I should _hope_ that was sarcasm," McGonagall said in relative admonishment, rising from her chair and placing her hands flat on her desk.

"You act as if it would be the end of the boy's life, Minerva."

"Well," McGonagall sniffed, crossing her arms. "I would like to believe that you could have a bit more sensitivity towards him, Severus. He took so much pride in being James Potter's son, and now that's been taken from him!"

"Yes, it must have been extremely upsetting to find out that the black hearted git Professor Snape was his father, rather than the noble James Potter," Severus sneered, though he believed what he said. "I have been considerate enough, Minerva, and I believe he has moved past that small detail… though I fail to see how that is any of your concern."

"I am his Head of House, it's my responsibility to see that he's being treated well."

"Oh, and you've done such a wonderful job protecting him from the neglect and verbal abuse of his relatives these past 16 years!" Severus snapped, taking a step forward. "Admit it, Professor. You don't think I'm capable of handling a child, and the last thing you or anyone else wants to see is the vanguard for the Light being steered towards darkness by the misbegotten Severus Snape!"

"Severus, I-"

"Do not try to deny it, Minerva," Severus growled, glaring heatedly down at her. "You've never liked nor trusted me. You've proven that today by admitting that you went to Albus Dumbledore with the belief that I was taking advantage of a young boy in my care."

"You would have done the same," McGonagall with forced calm, shaking her head.

"No, I would have had the decency to confront you or the student in question before slandering the name of a colleague to my employer," Snape hissed.

"My apologies, Severus," McGonagall responded tersely. "But we can't all be as honorable and dignified as you are."

"I've never claimed to be either one of those things," Severus replied. "However, I am amply perceptive- enough to act with a sense of decorum. But rest assured, I understand- your Gryffindor boldness spurs you to act quickly, rather than give thought to the repercussions of your actions, a trait that apparently doesn't diminish with age."

McGonagall looked as though she were about to retort angrily, but Severus had had enough.

"I thank you for your concern for Harry, Minerva," Severus said in mock graciousness, giving her an exaggerated bow of the head. "But I assure you, he is safe in my hands. Now, I believe this concludes our little meeting, so if you'll excuse me."

"I'm not sure we've found our conclusion, Severus," McGonagall objected, looking mildly offended.

"Oh, I'm quite sure we have." Severus gave her an ill-mannered smile and opened the door. "Harry normally tries to find his way down to my office on afternoons like this, and I'd hate to miss him."

He was deliberately angering her, and he knew it. He didn't normally use his relationship with Harry to goad people like this; he could imagine the boy would be quite upset with him if he found out that he had- but he couldn't resist. The look on her face as he alluded to their relationship was priceless. He found himself quite enjoying her reaction.

"After all," he continued, exiting into the corridor, "I have to make up for the fact that I am sadly not James Potter."

"No, you're not," McGonagall said icily, following him to the door. "And don't forget that. A biological relationship doesn't make one a father, I hope you realize."

"I'm quite sure I understand that, Minerva," Severus replied easily. And it was the truth. He knew he had to atone for his previous treatment of the young man, and he knew he had to atone for the way he had treated the child's mother, and the fact that he hadn't been there for either one of them. He was determined to do so.

"Severus," McGonagall finally called, one last time, as he strode down the corridor. The pleading note in her voice made him reluctantly turn around, ready to receive her words. "Please treat him well. The child cannot handle many more disappointments. The wounds he has are far deeper than the skin."

Severus hesitated for a moment, debating whether or not to reply. Taking a look around the corridor to check that they were alone, he decided to appease the woman. "And I intend to heal them," he stated simply. "Good day, Minerva."

And with that, he turned and strode towards his office, hoping that Harry would be there when he arrived.

xxx

Harry didn't disappoint. When Severus arrived at his office door, Harry was sitting cross legged in front of his door, munching contentedly on a biscuit. Severus rolled his eyes and wondered if he should first reprimand Harry for sitting on the dirty floor, or for munching on sweets not an hour before lunch. He decided against both.

"Comfortable?" He inquired, amused as Harry looked up at him and shrugged.

"Not particularly," Harry replied, getting up off the floor and dusting off his trousers. "But I figured you would be along soon, and I had biscuits to keep me busy, so I thought I'd wait."

Severus didn't know quite how to respond to this, so he settled for an amused, "Ah," and unlocked his office door.

"Allow me to gather some homework assignments that need grading, and then we'll have tea in my quarters," said Severus. "I generally enjoy natural light better than torch light, on days like this."

"K'", Harry agreed, spewing crumbs as he spoke. He looked sheepishly at the floor, and then at Severus, hoping he hadn't noticed. He swallowed the rest of his treat and then closed the door. "Do you want me to lock this, sir?"

"Do you know how?" Severus asked doubtfully, looking over his shoulder and raising an eyebrow at Harry. He wondered if the boy didn't think he would notice the biscuit crumbs trailing down the front of his shirt and littering the floor.

"Well, no," Harry replied, looking back at the door. "But you could teach me. Not so I could break in or anything!" he defended himself as Severus gave him another skeptical look. "Just, you said if I ever wanted to see you, I could come to your rooms, and what if I come through that door and need to lock it behind me?"

Severus shook his head and smiled lightly as he finished gathering the essays into his arms. "It doesn't need to be locked- I doubt any students will find their way into my office on such a day. Most generally avoid my area of the castle, and those who don't aren't of any concern."

"Your Slytherins, sir?"

"They know me too well to intrude," Severus said, opening the door leading to the corridor to his quarters, "And I'm alerted when someone enters my office. Oh yes, and I will charm it to open to you, if you'd like."

"Yes, then I won't have to sit in front of the door, dirtying up my clothes," Harry said, smiling. "I know that bothers you."

"No, by all means," Severus replied, waving his free hand. "If you'd like dirt and other bits of filth on your clothing, be my guest. I wouldn't want to oppress you and begrudge you the right to use the floor as a chair."

"Thank you," Harry laughed. "I appreciate that."

They reached Severus' door and after muttering the password, quickly entered so that Severus could set down the papers that were close to falling out of his arms.

"You know, you could have just used your wand and levitated those," Harry said thoughtfully, putting on a kettle of water.

"Just as you could use your wand and heat that," Severus retorted, indicating the kettle.

"I did use my wand," Harry replied, frowning at the pot.

"To warm the kettle, not the water inside. We'll still have to wait."

"I'm convinced that tea tastes better when you heat the water slowly," Harry said, giving Severus a look. "Just like in the muggle world; it tastes better if you use a stovetop to heat the water than it does if you just heat the water in the microwave."

"The what?" Severus asked, looking appalled.

"Never mind," Harry muttered, selecting a tin of peppermint tea.

"Did you just swear at me?" Severus probed, narrowing his eyes.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, laughing. "It's a- it's like a box, and you put things in it, and the light heats it up."

"How odd," Severus commented, settling himself in his favorite chair. He truthfully wasn't that interested in muggle appliances, but he knew he was entertaining Harry, and he found himself indulging in the small amount of happiness he could bring the boy simply by responding with the slightest interest.

"Do you want peppermint, lemon, or this one that I can't pronounce?" Harry asked from across the room.

"Does the one you can't pronounce begin with a _P _or an _R_?" Severus asked, shaking his head.

"Er- _R_" Harry responded, lifting the canister and squinting at the curvy scrawl. "The other one is mostly empty."

"I'll have that one, then," Severus said decidedly, marking a sloppily written essay with an automatic T. _In the future, take care to ensure your essay's readability_, Severus wrote in the side margin. _You're hardly intelligent enough for me to give you benefit of the doubt. _

Severus considered to himself that he was much better at being caustic when Harry wasn't around. He set aside the essay for further commentary later that evening.

"Out of curiosity," Severus started, looking around at Harry, "how did you think that tea was pronounced?"

"Er-" Harry muttered, looking down at the canister again. "Roo-boose," he pronounced slowly, eliciting a chocking sound from Severus. Harry narrowed his eyes. "Well, how is it pronounced, then?"

"It's Roo-ih-bus," Severus enunciated slowly, exaggerating the movements of his mouth. "Rooibos Chai, to be more specific."

"Well, I'm terribly sorry for not knowing my teas," Harry said, having the grace to feign a look of shame.

"Well, you'll learn if you're to take up residence with me," Severus promised him, raising an eyebrow. "Rooibos is one of those teas you should certainly be familiar with. It's a red tea, rich with antioxidants and low in tannin. It's also naturally decaffeinated, which is extremely convenient, considering the trouble I already have sleeping."

"That is very fascinating," Harry said politely, if not a touch mockingly. Severus glared at him, but said nothing more. Harry was quite relieved; he hardly cared about tea, especially when Severus made it sound more like a complex potion than a relaxing drink.

Harry poured the tea and turned back to him, only to find that he was still fixing him with an unsettling, yet somewhat expectant, glare.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to ask about the other tea?"

"Fine," Harry sighed. "How is the other pronounced?"

"That is Pu'erh Tuo Cha," Severus said, looking self satisfied. "It is a Chinese tea of the Oolong grouping; it's not widely known, nor enjoyed. However, there is a certain delicacy to a tea which must be so methodically prepared-"

"Like a potion," said Harry.

"A bit like a potion, yes," Severus agreed, nodding his head once to the side.

"What does it taste like?" Harry asked. He could detect a hint of cinnamon and ginger in the Rooibos tea Severus was sipping, but the leaves in the other canister had held a very unique scent, one Harry didn't recall having experienced before.

"I doubt you would like it," Severus said. "It has a rich, earthy flavor; more so than any other tea, it has the essence of the soil in which it was grown. It also improves with age, like wine, which I find to be a particularly interesting property."

"You would," Harry commented, laughing a little.

"I would what?"

"Find an interesting property in tea… I don't know. Do you relate everything to potions?"

"No."

Harry laughed again. There was a long, comfortable silence, in which the only sounds where Harry's small sighs and the angry scratching of Severus' quill upon the essays of unwitting young students.

"You are aware that next weekend, there is a Hogsmeade trip scheduled," Severus said after some time, addressing Harry.

"Umm, yeah," Harry said unsurely, not knowing where this was headed.

"I think it would be unwise for you to attend," Severus said. The warning note in his voice told Harry that far from a request, this was a command.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, unwilling to start an argument he was sure to lose. Oddly, it felt fitting… he had often wished someone would tell him to make good choices, so that he wouldn't have to make them voluntarily. It was much easier to resist temptation when he knew he had someone to answer to, and honestly, he didn't think it was a good idea either.

"Not only will Voldemort be ten times more fervent in his pursuit of you, now that he knows he'd be killing two birds with one proverbial stone, but also, we have yet to deal with your display of disobedience."

Harry groaned loudly. "That was weeks ago..."

"It was one week ago, and I do not forget," Severus replied.

"Well, no use in delaying the inevitable," Harry replied grudgingly, turning around. "What'll it be? The rack or the shackles?"

"Don't tempt me," Severus growled, narrowing his eyes.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Yes, you seem it," Severus responded, caustically.

"Well, _have_ you decided my sentence?"

"Why are you so eager to be punished?"

"I just don't like worrying about it," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "And I'm not new to discipline."

"Ah, yes," Severus said, nodding. "Those relatives of yours. Well, I assure you I will neither starve you nor lock you in any confined spaces," he said darkly, his expression twisted into one of revulsion. "And believe me; I will have a few words to say to those muggles about their neglect and borderline abuse of you in past years, once the opportunity presents itself."

Harry barely had the time to feel grateful towards his father before he continued, "No, the punishment I've thought up is much more creative in nature, and a bit more humane." He paused to smile forebodingly before continuing. "You will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds or my home until Boxing Day, and you will, over the holiday, construct a series of three essays for me. Each will be two feet in length, and touch on the topics of conduct, consequences, and choosing better courses of action. Your prompts will, of course, be more specific, but you may wait until the Holiday to find out exactly what they are."

"Why?"

"Because I want them done when I know you won't have the opportunity for outside help."

Harry didn't respond after that, willing the tension in the room to die down before he approached the next topic of conversation.

"So," Harry awkwardly said several moments later, as he set the tea down on the low table and took a seat on the couch. "We have a match against Hufflepuff this weekend," he offered, hoping Severus would offer to come without Harry having to ask.

"I'm aware," Severus replied, purposely keeping his eyes trained on the papers in front of him. He was curious to see whether or not Harry really wanted him there; surely, if he did, he would ask. He didn't want to intrude on Harry's life- he'd hardly earned the right, and wasn't quite sure how to behave as a parent attending a child's Quidditch match. He knew he couldn't bring himself to cheer and wave a little Gryffindor banner in a parody of support.

"I- er- I know your House isn't playing…" Harry started, hoping Severus would use his sharp intellect to guess where this was heading and answer the unasked question.

"Keen observation," Severus muttered, raising an eyebrow. He heard Harry swallow, and realized how uncomfortable he was making the boy. For some inexplicable reason, he was enjoying it. Let the boy have a taste of how it felt to charge past the line between familiar territory and uncertain association. It might remind him of how difficult it was for Severus to know how to behave at times.

"I- willyoucome?" Harry blurted out in a rush, color rising in his cheeks despite his effort to suppress it.

Severus slowly lifted his eyes from his work and looked at Harry with an innocent, unwitting expression. "Pardon?"

"You heard me," Harry mumbled, staring down into his tea.

Severus felt an odd mix of guilt and amusement at Harry's embarrassment. "No, I'm afraid I didn't. These essays are quite captivating; you must realize my attention is divided."

There was a playful smirk twisting Severus' lips, making Harry realize that the man knew exactly what was going on, and had for some while. The realization that Severus was purposely drawing this out of him put him at ease somewhat; it meant he wanted Harry to ask him. He supposed that if he were in Severus' position, he'd feel the same way.

Harry relaxed his shoulders and took a breath, before saying with more security, "I'd like it if you came."

Severus rewarded him with a softened, appreciative gaze, but responded, "You realize I have absolutely no idea how to cheer or encourage one during a Quidditch match."

"I understand that," Harry said, nodding. "I'd just like if you came… it would be enough, if you came."

"Then you may be assured that I will be present," Severus said softly, giving him a gracious nod.

"Thank you," Harry said quietly. "Should I leave you to your work?"

"Actually," Severus said, in an amused tone indicating to Harry that he probably wouldn't be pleased with what was said next. "I believe you have a Potions essay due on Tuesday."

"Oh," Harry said, looking towards the Potions books Severus had gestured to. "Well, I can do that later this weekend-"

"I think not," Severus said incredulously, raising his eyebrows. "Assuming you win the Quidditch match tomorrow, you'll most likely spend all of Saturday night celebrating, and basking in your glory on Sunday. Don't deny it!" he said, raising a finger as Harry opened his mouth to argue.

"That will leave Monday night for you to spend an incredibly long time procrastinating, until finally, at an hour during which you _should_ be getting to bed, Mr. Weasley and you will seek the help of one Hermione Granger, who will grudgingly assist you. You will then spend the entire next day falling asleep in your classes due to your finishing the essay at three A.M. If you think I will allow that to happen, you are sadly mistaken. Get to work," he finished threateningly, pointing towards the books. At Harry's hesitation, he rolled his eyes and raised his voice to a much more dangerous, "Now!"

Harry quickly complied, rising and fetching the books along with a scroll of unused parchment and some quills. He couldn't help but wonder to himself just how Severus had managed to figure out his homework routine.

"And Harry," Severus called, causing the boy to jump and quickly turn around. "If you finish while you're here…" he said, considering the matter even as he spoke. "I may be willing read it over and give you a few suggestions."

"Er- thank you, sir," Harry said, unable to hide his shock at this rather kind offer.

Severus shrugged dismissively.

"It's not as if you wouldn't ask Miss Granger to do it anyways."

At the amused but knowing look in Severus' sideways glance, Harry smiled and turned back to his work. It certainly was eerie; the man's knowledge knew no boundaries.

xxx

Harry had held an impromptu practice the night before, but he wasn't at all sure it would help. To his chagrin, he had found that his team had become quite confident in themselves, and when practice didn't go well, they shrugged it off and reasoned that adrenaline would win them the match the next day.

So, here Harry was standing, in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, with everyone watching, worried out of his mind that their skills wouldn't compare to Hufflepuff's. His strategy was simple: catch the snitch as soon as possible and hope Ron's keeping skills didn't fail.

It was an awful day for Quidditch, Harry reflected as he waited for Madame Hooch to finish checking the balls for any hexes or curses. The first snow of the season hadn't come yet, but it was cold enough that Harry wouldn't have been surprised if a full blown blizzard hit. He could only imagine how much further the temperatures would drop once he increased altitude. He absentmindedly pulled his worn gloves to fit more snuggly on his hands, while pondering how the use of a warming charm on the handle of his broom might affect its flying ability. He looked up to where Snape was seated in the stands and made note to ask him after the match.

xxx

Severus had never minded attending Quidditch matches before; as he'd normally only attended those of his own house, and the ones at the very end of the season, he hadn't been expected to sit with those supporting Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Now, however, he found himself unhappily sandwiched between Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and worst of all, Hagrid.

He had, of course, attempted to resist, but they would have none of it. Minerva seemed to have softened considerably after their last encounter. Any semblance of ill will she may have had before had disappeared; though she had appeared wary when he'd first appeared, she'd warmed substantially when Severus had explained that he'd come to support his son. Pleased by this, she and Hagrid had all but dragged him to their preferred seats, followed by a chuckling Headmaster.

Even from his high seat in the stands, Severus could see the anxiety on Harry's face. He hadn't confessed his apprehension the previous day, when they'd discussed the Hufflepuff team, but Harry's nervous habits of twisting his sleeve and sighing more than necessary gave him away. Of course, Severus had heard Professor Sprout bragging quite a bit about her team's improvements, but he hadn't shared that with Harry. He'd listened patiently as Harry described all his best strategies, and though he didn't offer any better ones, he'd helped him rule out those that seemed least likely to work. He hoped he'd see that pay off today.

"It's a rather cold day for a Quidditch match," McGonagall commented from beside Severus, rubbing her hands together and casting a warming spell over her cloak.

Severus nodded. "Yes, one of the unfortunate things about Quidditch is that its range of variables exceeds strength of the players and quality of brooms," he agreed. "But I've never seen the boy fail due to harsh conditions, I'll give him that. No doubt he'll land himself in the hospital wing if necessary, but he'll do what he must."

Their conversation paused for a moment as the whistle was blown and the brooms rose into the air. They watched for a short while as the Quaffle was passed back and forth between the Gryffindor chasers, before being purposely intercepted by one of the Hufflepuff beaters. Harry sat above, scanning the skies intently.

"Why, Severus, if I didn't know better, I'd say that's a touch of pride I hear in your voice," Minerva replied, barely concealing a smile.

"Well," Severus said quietly, looking down. "I am proud."

"Why do you sound ashamed of it?"

Severus' expression became a pensive frown, and he shifted his jaw thoughtfully. Being a private person, he resented the intrusive and analytical nature of McGonagall's question. He felt compelled to answer, however, out of some (however grudging) need to smooth over their argument from the days prior. "I suppose," Severus said slowly, "it reflects how wrong I may have been about the boy. For five years I saw what I wanted to see, not what was… for all the faults the boy has, his motivations certainly are not what they appeared to be."

"He has Lily's ability to forgive," Minerva commented, eyes trained on Ron as he prepared to block a goal. "Everyone deserves the chance to be forgiven, Severus. Even you."

Severus snorted at the audacity of her statement, and Minerva allowed a full smile to show; it was incalculable whether it was in response Ron's successful block of the Quaffle or to Severus' ever so quaint expression of amusement.

"Leave it to a Gryffindor to get sentimental in the middle of a Quidditch match," Severus quipped sardonically, glancing sideways at her through narrowed eyes.

"Speaking of which," Minerva said once the Quaffle had reached midfield again. "I should apologize for my behavior yesterday."

_Yes, she should_, Severus thought to himself, but he didn't say as much.

"I was… I suppose I was out of line. I-" she paused for a moment, and then looked at him, eyebrow raised. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

The corners of Severus' mouth twitched upward as he shot her a sideways glance and shook his head.

"I'd expected as much," she said, nodding. "I can see you've taken a vested interest in Harry's life, Severus. I can't tell you how long I've wished someone would. I, of course, have tried to keep an eye on him, but I believe it's very different from the benefit he receives from having you as a… as a father. I must say, this is the longest I've ever seen him go without getting into some sort of trouble."

"Minerva, last week he joined Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy, left the grounds unaccompanied by an adult, traveled to another town, and went into a place where he knew a group of Death Eaters to be gathered. Now please, if you don't consider that some sort of trouble, give me your reasons so I may revoke the punishment I have given him."

Strangely, this drew a laugh from her. "Well, I suppose you have a point," Minerva admitted, inclining her head. "But I expect that from him, by now. I was speaking of the fact that he has had all of his homework turned in, hasn't received a detention since the start of the year, and his grades have even improved. He must care for your approval, Severus. I can see no other explanation for these improvements. Having someone to answer to has done him some good."

For a long time, they watched the match in relative silence. Severus hadn't realized how well Harry had been doing, if truth were told. He'd never followed the boy's academic successes or failures before now, so he hadn't realized there had been an improvement. He'd always figured he was the only one to give detentions to the boy-who-lived, but from the sound of it, this wasn't true. Maybe he was doing something right after all.

"What was your punishment for him, by the way?" Minerva asked as Gryffindor blocked another goal. So far, neither team had managed to score any points; Harry was still circling the field, watching for a glint of gold and silver.

"He's to stay on the castle grounds, and during the Holidays my home, until Boxing day."

"Not a terrible sentence," Minerva commented, looking surprised.

"Well, I thought he'd like to spend Boxing Day with the Weasleys, and I'm not determined to make this Holiday like the others he's had," Severus responded, before allowing himself a half smile. "Besides, I've specified that over the Holidays he shall have three essays to complete, two feet in length."

Minerva laughed. "Leave it to you to give him one of his least favorite things to do as punishment."

"That_ is_ the point."

"How did he react?"

Severus paused for a moment. "He didn't."

"Surprising," Minerva said.

"Considering the _punishments_ he's received in the past, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest." Severus said, shaking his head. "But that's a topic best left untouched, if I'm to congratulate my son on his victory a short while from now," he said, pointing to the sky. "I do believe the boy has sighted the snitch."

xxx

Harry was beginning to think this match would last for hours when he finally saw it. His reaction was the same as always; a small part of his heart leapt into his throat, quickening its pace as adrenaline pounded its way through his system. He threw a quick glance at the other seeker, assessing whether or not she had seen it. She was still circling, but her speed might win out if she realized what Harry was onto; she was closer to the snitch.

Pulling up on the handle of his broom, Harry accelerated upward, shooting into the mass of clouds hovering over the Quidditch pitch. Before long, he could hear her close behind, gaining speed. She sped past him with ease; his estimation that her small stature would push her to higher speeds had been correct.

Losing her in the whitish haze, Harry took a deep dive down to the clearer area of the skies. Arriving there, he was elated to find it hadn't zoomed off; the snitch hung, glinting and glittering like a pretty, elusive little bird… right next to the stands where Dumbledore, McGonagall, and most importantly, his father, were all seated.

A smile illuminating his face, he took off in a moment of quick decision. He could hear the girl behind him, but he would get there first. If the snitch had been hovering anywhere else around the field, he might not have been so determined, but for a very viable reason indeed, he felt he had to succeed now. He would not fail; this game was his for the taking, and his father would be right there to witness it. Ever since he'd found out his father had had a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a boy, he'd always played with the subconscious desire that his father could be there to witness it; he'd always wished someone would be there to be proud, friends and teachers aside. He'd always denied this feeling because it had seemed selfish; he had so many people to admire him, and yet he yearned for the attention of only one.

Still, now that he had that chance, he couldn't pass it up. _Who_ his father was made no difference; it only mattered that his father was here.

He was close now; a mere fifteen meters, if he had to judge.

Not that the determinedly evasive snitch would allow him such an easy victory.

As if it had eyes and could see Harry approaching, it zipped around to the other side of the stand. Thinking quickly, Harry hastily changed direction with his broom and aimed to meet it around the other side. Years of experience were apparently on his side, as he was not disappointed. The snitch discontinued its 360 loop around the stand and took an upwards turn; Harry followed at an almost frighteningly vertical incline, only to reach the top of the stand and head down again.

If Harry had ever had any desire to visit a muggle theme park and ride a roller coaster, that urge quickly saw itself out of Harry's head as he flew over that stand and straight down its front. Not for the first time, he had to choose whether colliding with the ground was a fair price to pay for catching the snitch, and not for the first time, he decided it was.

The other seeker was diving, attempting to reach the ground before he did, but he was too close. He already had the angle and acceleration on his side, and was hurdling towards the ground at a much faster rate.

Almost there, Harry kept one hand steady on his broom, ready to pull up as soon as he had the snitch; his other hand he extended, preparing to catch it. He wasn't far from hitting the green pitch at full speed- he could tell it was risky by the shocked gasps coming from the crowd as the other seeker pulled out her dive and he continued. He didn't care, for within a moment, he'd captured it; the snitch was his.

Seconds from colliding with the hard ground, he tugged his broom upwards and rose into the air, the little ball held high and tight in his hand. He threw a fist into the air in victory and got ready to circle the pitch.

Before he did, he looked at Severus.

"Well done," the man mouthed, allowing a smile to grace his face, if only for a second. Harry broke out into a wide, toothy grin, nodded his thanks, and joined his teammates in the victory lap.

xxx

Harry dressed as quickly as possible after the match. He wanted to see Severus before he headed back to Gryffindor Tower, which wasn't turning out to be easy with all the back pats and words of praise his fellow teammates were still bestowing upon him. He wasn't quite sure why they were making a bigger deal out of this win than they had the others; he wondered if it was because he was the only one to score any points.

The game hadn't been dragged out too late into the evening, so Harry figured he might be able to stall for about an hour before joining the busy common room festivities.

Severus was just joining Dumbledore and McGonagall, having finally gathered the last of his Slytherins and sent them off to the castle. Harry pushed through the crowd, stopping a few times to accept compliments from other classmates. Finally, he found his way to the rear and found himself standing in front of the three professors, who looked at him expectantly.

Suddenly, Harry realized he had planned everything up to the part where he was supposed to talk. Now he was drawing a blank.

"Umm… hi," he improvised lamely.

Severus quirked half his mouth into a smile. Harry thought to himself that it still looked like a smirk. "Impressive," Severus said dryly, knowing Harry wouldn't be able to figure out whether he meant the performance or his sudden lack of words.

"Er- thanks," Harry said, looking off to the side. He was acutely aware of the lingering presence of the other two professors. "Thanks for coming."

Feeling rather awkward in front of his colleague and superior, he gave them a nod of departure and steered Harry forward. "It was my pleasure," he intoned, once they were out of hearing range.

Harry figured that was the extent of praise he was going to receive. Still, it was sufficient.

Harry scratched his head and started uneasily, "So, I was thinking about Hogsmeade-"

"We already discussed this," Severus said in a low voice, quick to put an end to any ideas Harry might have about getting off his punishment.

"Yes, I know," Harry said. "But-"

Gods, the boy could be impertinent. Severus fixed him with a stern glare, but Harry continued.

"It's just, if I don't go to Hogsmeade, I can't see how I'm going to get gifts for everyone for Christmas," Harry explained, attempting to sound very rational. "I mean, I agree with your punishment and everything-"

"You do?" Severus asked, turning to the boy and raising his eyebrows in slight surprise.

"Well, yeah," Harry responded dimly, shrugging his shoulders. He'd honestly seen much worse punishments, and he would take being confined to the castle and Severus' house over the Dursleys or the true wrath of Severus' temper any day.

"Well, perhaps we can arrange a trip to Hogsmeade during the week," Severus said, grudgingly softened by Harry's acceptance of his punishment. He hadn't reacted strongly at the time, but Severus had suspected that over time, his resentment would grow into an angry grudge. "I may be able to escort you on Wednesday-"

"I'd like that," Harry said uneasily, "but how can I get your gift if you're with me?"

Taken aback for a moment, Severus muttered, "You needn't get my anything."

"I want to," Harry said quickly, and before Severus could object further, rushed into an explanation. "I would feel rather awkward and ungrateful staying in your home and not even bothering to get you anything for Christmas. What kind of person do you take me for?"

Severus ignored his last question. "It's not simply _my _home," he said reprovingly. "It's both of ours. It's… it's the one you would have grown up in, had Lily and I…" he broke off there, looking off to the side.

Harry saved him the disgrace of having to finish that sentence. "You lived there together?"

"Yes," Severus responded. "I doubt you'll be surprised, when you see it. She had a very different… style, than I myself have. The interior furnishings are anything but a result of my own work."

"Is that why you haven't been there in so long?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't pushing some invisible boundary.

"Yes," Severus replied, nodding. "But, like I said before, it would be foolish to stay anywhere Voldemort might suspect."

"You don't think he'll come after us over the Holiday, do you?"

"The house is under the protection of the Fidelus charm," Severus said, shaking his head. "Dumbledore is my secret-keeper; even if he found out we'd left Hogwarts, we'll be nearly untouchable. The plan, however, is to make him believe we are staying here."

"How?" Harry asked.

"Just leave that to me," Severus said. "And keep your mind occluded."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Severus privately thought that it might be time to put a stop to all the same formalities he'd expected of Harry when he was merely the boy's teacher, but he didn't say as much. There would be a better time and place for that.

"So… maybe Professor Dumbledore could take me, then?" Harry tried again.

"Take you… ah, Hogsmeade," Severus remembered, before smirking and shaking his head. "I think not. You may go to Hogsmeade, but I fear the Headmaster will make it far more enjoyable than a necessary shopping trip need be. No… I will speak to Professor McGonagall, and see what time she has available."

"You're awful," Harry muttered, though he was only half serious.

"And you're entirely too cheeky for your own good!"

Harry ducked before he could get hit over the back of the head.

xxx

It was Harry's personal opinion that this particular celebration was lasting far too late into the night. When Fred and George had been at Hogwarts, the parties had been far more entertaining. Now, however, they just didn't have the same kick.

As Hermione shared this opinion, the two decided they would escape the noise and head up to the boys' dormitory for some peace and quiet. Harry tried with great difficulty to ignore the woops and whistles that followed as they ascended the stairs. Hermione, however, turned around and promptly quieted the jeers with a few well chosen words.

"Have I ever told you how much I admire you, Hermione?" Harry asked as she closed the door behind them and cast a spell to block the outside noise.

"Not nearly often enough," she quipped, throwing herself onto the bed across from him. "I can't begin to tell you how much I'm looking forward to this Holiday," she muttered. "I'm so tired of these insufferable… _children_."

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked uneasily. The last place he wanted to be when Hermione Granger went on a rant was sitting across from her.

"Oh fine, fine," Hermione said, sitting up and pushing a wayward curl out of her face. "I hope you're not still angry at me for last weekend," she said, frowning worriedly. "I've been thinking about it all week, and-"

"No, you were right," Harry said, shrugging. "I was being an idiot… as usual. Speaking of idiots… are you and Ron alright?"

"Fine, why do you ask?" Hermione said all too casually, making Harry narrow his eyes.

"You didn't speak to him once down there," Harry said, giving her a knowing look.

"Well, it's not my fault he's too absorbed in telling everyone about his amazing keeping skills to pay me any attention," Hermione said haughtily, rolling her eyes.

"He's just used to having to show off to get any attention, with brothers like the ones he's got," Harry reasoned, trying to defend his other friend.

"Well why should attention matter so much? None of those people really care about him. Not the way we do."

Harry sighed and nodded, not willing to get into this discussion. He knew she would just repeat it all to Ginny, anyways. Hardly seemed to matter if he sympathized with her; he wasn't very good at that sort of thing.

"Listen, Hermione- you're smart. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, ask," Hermione said, nodding.

"I have to get Severus a Christmas present… but what on earth do you get someone like him?"

Hermione appeared to think deeply for a moment. "Well," she said slowly, getting up to pace the room. "It can't be something too extravagant, not at this point, anyways. You don't want it to appear as though you think money and glamour matter more than the thought behind it, because you've no idea what he's likely to get you."

"Oh, I don't think he'll get me anything," Harry said, half laughing. "Or at least, I don't expect him to."

"I doubt he'd invite you for Christmas and then refuse to give you a gift," Hermione said gently, smiling at him. "What does he like?"

"I don't know," Harry said; if a touch of desperation found its way into his expression, he hadn't meant it to. "I think he's got just about every book on the planet, his potions ingredients are always stocked-"

"Oh, Harry, you can't get him something for school. Potions ingredients, I ask you," she muttered to herself. "Listen, since you have no prior knowledge of what he's interested in, just make it something personal. Something small, but something personal. It shouldn't be hard to find that."

"Find what?" Harry was practically whining now.

"What I just said- something personal. Oh, this is just useless," she complained, sitting down on the bed again. "You have my advice, but then, I've never bought for Professor Snape before. However, I'm sure there's someone who has."

"Who?"

"Headmaster Dumbledore, of course."

xxx

Harry counted himself very fortunate to have such loyal friends. Upon learning that Harry would not be allowed to attend the Hogsmeade trip, Ron and Hermione had agreed to come back that afternoon, after they had finished their shopping.

Of course, Harry hadn't counted on Ginny, Luna, and Neville following the two back, but he wasn't upset that they did. Harry had an inkling that Severus would be somewhat put off by this fact, but he wasn't about to say anything. Severus had said he couldn't go to Hogsmeade; he'd said nothing about friends bringing Hogsmeade to Harry.

The group had shown up with a plethora of varied sweets from Honeydukes and little trinkets from Zonko's Joke Shop. They had the common room to themselves, and were quite content once they'd pulled six of the nicest chairs over to the table on which they'd spread their treats.

"If Snape could see you now," Ron laughed as Harry tilted his head back to catch a chocolate bean in his mouth.

"I'm rather glad he can't," Harry said, chewing. "This might not be completely against the rules, but I don't think he'd be pleased."

"And yet you do it," Hermione said, shaking her head and leaning forward to sort through the pile.

"Nonsense," Ginny said in Harry's defense. "What do you expect him to do, turn us all away?" She lowered her voice to a less feminine pitch and mockingly imitated him. "'Sorry, everyone, it wouldn't be a punishment if I had fun anyways. Take your sweets and go.'" she laughed and resumed her normal tone. "It wouldn't be natural."

"Well, I'm not trying to complain," Hermione said. "It's nice to actually spend some time with you, Harry, other than at dinner or in the library."

"Well, if you'd come down and watch us during Quidditch practice-" Ron started, only to be cut off by a sharp kick in the shin from his little sister. He let out a little yell and called her a nasty name, but didn't finish his sentence.

"So many things have changed," Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair.

"Yeah, I'd give anything to go back to first year," Neville commented, nodding.

Luna gave him an odd look, narrowing her usually wide, bulgy eyes. "Why?"

"Things were simpler then," Neville said, shrugging.

"Voldemort hadn't returned," Ron said in way of agreement.

Harry shook his head. "He was always going to."

"But, maybe-"

"No," Ginny spoke up. "Harry's right. He was always going to return; he would have kept trying, no matter what, until he found a way. There would be no point in going back… we would just be delaying the inevitable."

It remained unsaid that having hosted Riddle in her mind, she would be one to know.

"Do you think we'll ever… you know, defeat him?" Neville asked.

Silence fell. Harry was the first to break it. "We haven't got much choice… it's him or us. Him or me."

"No, Harry, not just you and him. We can all work together-"

"That's just it," Harry said, looking up. "It's not. It's going to come down to the two of us, and only one can win."

"How could you possibly know that?" Hermione asked skeptically.

"Because that's what was in the prophecy."

All eyes turned to Neville. How he had known this, Harry couldn't quite figure out. He couldn't remember telling him.

"Did Dumbledore tell you too?" Harry asked, and received a nod. "When?"

"Earlier this year…" he said uneasily, shifting in his seat. "Said… he said it was time."

"Why would he tell you now, of all times?" Hermione asked.

"Tell what?" Ron inquired blankly, looking back and forth between them. Hermione gave him a small smile and shook her head.

"It could have been me or Harry," Neville said. "One of us would have had to battle Voldemort… Voldemort chose Harry."

"Chose?" Ron repeated.

Harry pointed to his scar. He noticed, as he did, that his hand was shaking. He knew he was going to have to do something about these nerves… every time he thought about what he was going to have to do, his stomach roiled and pitched, and his eyes threatened to see only black. It was happening even now, even as he sat in the middle of all his friends… the surreal fact was that someday soon, he would have to battle the Dark Lord Voldemort, and there was a good possibility that he wouldn't be the one to walk away. "The prophecy could have applied to either Neville or me. He chose… well, you know who he chose…" Harry said shakily, running a hand over his marked forehead. "In doing so, and failing, he marked me as his equal. The prophecy goes on to state that only one of us can live in the end… either must die at the hand of the other."

He'd committed this to memory. He'd gone over it so many times, trying in vain to find some flaw in its phrasing, something that gave it a different meaning. He knew he wouldn't feel guilty about killing him, in the end, but he would be lying to himself if he tried to deny that he was scared. Anyone in his right mind would be.

"That's why it's so vital that we finish this potion before he realizes what we're doing," Hermione said thoughtfully, piecing it all together.

Harry nodded, staring with wide, unfixed eyes at the floor. "Exactly."

"You know we're still going to help," Ginny said gently, hesitantly resting a hand on Harry's arm.

"Mhmm," Luna murmured in agreement, nodding. "We'll do all we can. With our combined knowledge, we can create all sorts of unexpected defenses." She thought for a moment, and said, "For example, I've heard there's a spell that allows you to summon Nortrixes to protect fortresses- if the final battle were to take place at Hogwarts, I'm sure we could do that. And I'll ask my dad, I'm sure he can give us more suggestions, as well."

No one even bothered to ask what a Nortrix was.

Ginny suppressed a giggle as Harry managed a tight smile and said, "Thanks, Luna."

"What else can we do, Harry?" Hermione asked. He only noticed then that her amber eyes were close to tears.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I used to think that at a time like this, I would know exactly what needed to be done… but I don't. There's so much to do, I don't even know where to begin. I'm not nearly prepared enough to battle Voldemort."

"I'm sure having Snape as a father will do you a world of good," Neville said, eyes widened. "He's got to know a thing or two about dueling."

"I'd imagine so," Harry said, trying not to laugh at the nervous look that appeared on Neville's face at the mere mention of his father.

"Well, don't hesitate to tell us when you do know, Harry," Hermione said seriously, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. "Talk to the Professor, and see what he thinks… we should start preparing soon."

"Do you really think it'll be like… a battle?" Ron asked, his mouth held slightly agape at the notion.

"Ron… I think it'll be closer to war," Harry said, lowering his brow. "When the time finally comes… this is going to be so much more than we've ever dealt with. I can't even…"

"We'll be ready," Neville said determinedly. "We'll be ready."

xxx

It was far too late for someone to be knocking on his door. No. No one was knocking on his door- he would just turn over, bury his head in his pillows, and fall back asleep, and the obnoxious knocking would stop.

And again it came.

Fine. It wasn't a figment of his imagination, nor was it a part of a dream. Severus rolled out of bed unceremoniously; it was quite a departure from his usually graceful form. He threw on a robe, pulled on some socks, and stalked grumpily out of his room and towards his door.

He usually didn't sleep much, admittedly, but every now and again, it all caught up to him. He'd had a long week, and had spent a majority of the day locked in a room filled with the warm steam and pungent fumes emitted from the various potions brewing. To say the least, such conditions hadn't exactly been energizing.

Severus cracked the door open and peered out into the darkness. He didn't see anything, but within moments, two familiar green eyes were staring back at him.

"Hi," Harry said breathlessly, looking around. "I saw Filch a few corridors back, can I come in before he catches me?"

"I suppose," Severus said, standing back and rolling his eyes. "But thirty points from Gryffindor for wandering the corridors late at night. You don't look incredibly distressed; I'm guessing this could have waited until tomorrow."

"Yes, but I needed to talk about it now," Harry said. "I talked to my friends, but I… I don't know." He shifted uncomfortably. "Wasn't the same," he muttered, almost inaudibly.

Severus nodded. "Admissible," was all he said.

Harry sat down on the couch and curled his knees up to his chest. He didn't grasp them, just rested his head on them; Severus could tell he'd crawled out of bed, unable to sleep well.

"You're worried," Severus observed, seating himself in the chair across from Harry, and noticing that they usually took the same positions when down here.

"Yeah," Harry admitted awkwardly, twisting his hands nervously. He still wasn't accustomed to coming to this man for any sort of emotional support or advice… he was new to this, as was his father.

"May I ask why?" Severus uneasily inquired, wondering why a simple question was so difficult for him to ask.

Harry hesitated for a moment, trying to appear deep in thought. He always tried to seem so sure of himself: adult, mature, and ready to handle whatever was thrown at him. To admit his fear about something that was beyond his control, and ultimately, inevitable, seemed silly. Why worry about something that was bound to happen anyways? What did it accomplish to admit his weaknesses?

"Do you know about the prophecy?" Harry finally asked, frowning deeply at his internal insecurities. Such feelings seemed unnecessary.

"I do," Severus said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Not word for word, but I understand what it requires."

Harry didn't say anything. Severus considered the boy, studying his facial expressions. He had never seen him look so unsure of himself; normally, the boy was almost confident to the point of obnoxiousness, or arrogance, as Severus had once believed. Coming to know him, he'd begun to think of it as strength… it was gratifying to see the boy display some humanity in this aspect- on this topic. After all, if he saw himself as invincible, it was likely more detrimental than any fear he could possess. Apparently, Severus had to tell him he thought as much.

"You realize, Harry," he said gently, "that no one expects you to be brave all the time. Grown men have been called valiant for displaying half the amount of strength you have, bearing such a burden at so young an age. You would do well to remember that the prophecy dictates only what is to happen, not how you feel about it."

Harry nodded, slightly reassured, but his fear didn't subside.

"Have you ever considered what it really means, though?" Harry asked, unfolding his legs and sitting forward on the dark couch.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're asking," Severus admitted.

"If I can't defeat the most powerful dark wizard in existence… then nothing else matters. Have you ever considered that?" He paused, waiting for a response. He received nothing; Severus held his gaze steady and waited for him to continue. "I have. I can't run and I can't hide, because everything depends on my defeating him."

Harry's tone was the most bitter Severus had ever heard it; the look on his face was dark, far away, and most frighteningly, familiar to the Potions Master.

"You're very wrong," Severus said, shaking his head.

Harry's head snapped in Severus direction, a doubtful, searching look on his face.

"You can run. You can hide. I would help you do it, if you really wanted to. But you see," Severus said, leaning forward. "That would be taking the coward's way out. It would be just as easy for you to become a different person and join his side… I know that's not what you want."

"But… don't you ever think that it's impossible?"

"I have, in the past," Severus said. "In your earlier years, you didn't show any extraordinary strength, in my opinion, and the luck you possessed only served to offset your outstanding lack of intelligence."

Harry gave him a very dark look at that, but Severus held up a hand to forestall him from speaking. "But that was, as I've stated, in the past. My opinion has since changed."

"How?" Harry asked skeptically. "How can it have? Maybe you were right. I'm nothing special."

"I'm sure many people would beg to differ," Severus said, throwing Harry a cynical glance. "The Headmaster, for one, who has an uncanny sense about people and power. He is nothing if not an intuitive battle strategist."

"And yet he failed to tell me about any of this until my fifth year," Harry said, almost in way of objection.

"He's not infallible," Severus replied, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "His plans are not unerring. Often, his mistakes are made when he attempts to spare people pain, but it's not to say that his wisdom doesn't exceed that of most men. He wouldn't ask you to do the impossible. The fact that he expects you to succeed speaks volumes about the probability of your victory. Never forget, Harry. You do have the power the Dark Lord knows not. When the time comes, you will be ready… it's not a matter of preparation, it's a matter of fate."

"How very eloquent," Harry scoffed, earning himself an acidic glare.

"Slightly histrionic in its wording or no, it is true," Severus said irritably, though he could understand Harry's skepticism. "And you aren't alone in this, you realize."

"You know the prophecy! That's just it, I am alone!"

"No!" Severus objected, standing up. "It is only meant that in that final moment, you will be the one on the receiving or casting end of that fateful curse. Up until then, you can and must accept all help that is offered to you. I know it can't be of much comfort to think a group of children is your only means of support, so allow me to assure you that when I say you will have help, I am alluding to the adults in your life."

"Which adults?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Well, what do you think I'll be doing, sitting on the sidelines and conjuring biscuits and pumpkin juice at snack time?" Severus snapped, offended that Harry would even ask. "I know I fail you in many ways… but I can promise you that I won't fail you in this. I am attempting to complete this potion, which will have the utmost significance in your fight with the Dark Lord. This summer, we will devise a rigorous training schedule, and I will tell you now, I'll be teaching you things Dumbledore would never dare to incorporate into the syllabus at school."

"What, like, the Dark Arts?" Harry questioned, appalled. Was he actually suggesting this?

"You must know what they entail in order to defeat them," Severus said, raising an eyebrow as he realized how ignorant Harry was to some of the concepts of battle.

"Does Dumbledore know you're planning this?"

"We've exchanged words over it, yes," Severus admitted in a deceptively mild tone.

"What kind of words?" Harry asked cautiously. He didn't mean to argue, but he wasn't sure this was a good idea… he wasn't ready for such power. What if he didn't have the self-discipline to contain it?

"Do you honestly think," Severus said slowly, stepping forward, "That Albus Dumbledore has no knowledge of the Dark Arts? Do you think he's become the most powerful wizard in existence through ignorance of how the other side fights? Don't fool yourself into thinking there is so great a difference between dark and light, Harry. The answer to what kind of wizard you are lies within _how_ you use the knowledge you have."

"And what if I use them the wrong way?" Harry asked. "How do you know that I won't… you know, go dark?"

"Because I will not allow you to," Severus replied, looking at Harry as if that were the most obvious thing in the world. "And I have no intention of teaching you only dark spells. Most will be spells simply too powerful for normal boys of your age to attempt. I have no intentions of steering you down too dark or tempting a path."

"I know you don't _intend_ to-"

"Harry," Severus said, stepping forward again and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation, nodding.

"Then you have little need to worry," Severus reassured him, leaning down to Harry's level to make eye contact.

"I suppose you're right," Harry conceded quietly.

Severus nodded. "And if it is of any comfort, this was planned even before we discovered our familial link. It was intended that I take up training you, in coordination with Dumbledore, this coming summer. I wasn't happy to agree at the time it was discussed… Now, however, I have a vested interest in your success… I hope you realize that my dedication has increased tenfold."

"I suppose I should thank you," Harry said quietly.

"No," Severus disagreed gently, moving to sit next to him. "Thank me _after_ you succeed, victorious. Until then, you owe me nothing."

"And after?"

"I believe we shall all find ourselves indebted to you, Harry."

Harry hoped he was right. He didn't need people indebted to him… but he thought it would be lovely to live long enough for such a thing to happen. From where he was standing, it still didn't seem all that likely.

xxx End Chapter 33 xxx

AN:

Thanks so much to **Rlmess** and **MakalaniAstral**, who both beta'd this chapter for me.

Reviews are always appreciated

-Thanks-  
Me


	34. Shopping with Minerva

Chapter 34

Shopping with Minerva

xxx

Another day was drawing to a close, and it was becoming more and more apparent that the Christmas holidays weren't going to stop and wait for anyone, not even the famous Harry Potter.

Harry couldn't help but feel a certain amount of dread and anticipation at the coming weeks. He had grown used to spending time with his father, yes… but actually living with the man? That was another story. Residing under his roof and abiding by his rules? Unimaginable. Eating every meal together and tolerating one another's presence and personalities, idiosyncrasies included? It was a bit much… almost like getting married, only without the fringe benefits.

Harry tried to reason with himself that this was what every other kid did, only other children had to do it for an entire lifetime. The little voice in the back of his head countered that the other kids didn't have Professor Severus Snape as a father.

He could rationalize that any amount of time he'd spent with the Dursleys had surely left him worse off than he would be now. After all, Severus had been tolerating his presence quite admirably in the past few weeks, and Harry had to admit- he was growing fonder and fonder of the man, dry wit and healthy sense of sarcasm included.

Yes, it was true. Even the little digs that Severus made at Harry were enjoyable now, especially once Harry figured out that he was allowed to retort with equally clever and scathing remarks. Occasionally, he pushed a boundary and received a warning, but on an average, Harry was finding him to be a fairly reasonable man, if you only got him to put his biases and grudges aside. He didn't seem nearly as insane as he had at one point in Harry's schooling career.

The oddest things had been triggering these thoughts in Harry lately. For example, this bout of anxious meditation had been triggered by the oddly triangular shape Harry's mashed potatoes had taken when he'd spooned them onto his plate. For some unfathomable reason, it had ironically occurred to him that they took the same shape as Severus' angular nose. Yes, it was odd, but Harry couldn't stop these sorts of thoughts from occurring. They just… did.

And so, here Harry was, sitting at dinner with Hermione and Ron and absentmindedly leaning his elbow into his side dish of mushy peas.

"Er- mate, you've got a little something on your sleeve, there," said Ron, wrinkling his nose at the site of the dark green pea residue lingering on the dark elbow of Harry's sleeve.

"Oh, thanks, Ron," Harry said, grabbing a napkin and hastily wiping the mess off his robes, causing Hermione to sigh in frustration, reach across and stop Harry from working the stain deeper into the fabric, and pull out her want to mutter a helpful cleaning spell.

"What would we ever do without you, Hermione?" Harry beamed at her, as she smiled at his flattery and tucked her wand away.

"So, you'll be spending the Holidays with Snape then, eh Harry?" Ron asked, tilting his eyebrows forward to indicate his sympathy.

Harry nodded and swallowed his food. "Yeah," he replied noncommittally, tipping his head to the side. "I don't know what I'm going to talk to him about for two weeks, but I'm sure something will come up."

"Well, we can always visit you if things get awkward," Hermione offered sympathetically, glaring when Ron choked in shock, looking at her with his eyes wide. "What?" she questioned, raising her eyebrows. "We will!"

"I doubt Snape is going to let us come to his house, Hermione," Ron said, leaning forward so that they wouldn't be overheard. "And even if he did… do we really want to go there?"

Harry was a little put off that his best friend was saying this right in front of him, but reasoned that since he was doing so, he obviously couldn't realize how much it bothered Harry to hear his father talked about so negatively. Perhaps he could talk to Hermione and she would yell at Ron for him. She was incredibly handy, that way.

"That's_ Professor_ Snape to you, Ronald," Hermione was saying, waving her fork for emphasis, "and you're deluded if you think that he's really going to lock Harry up for two weeks with no contact with the outside world. The Professor has already promised to let him go to the Burrow for boxing day, isn't that right, Harry?"

"Er- yeah," Harry said, caught off guard and looking back and forth between the two. "If I'm invited, that is."

"Oh, don't be thick Harry, of course you're invited," Ron said, giving him what was supposed to be a comforting slap on the back. Harry thought it was rather rough to be reassuring, but didn't say as much. "Mum would have you stay the whole holiday if you could, but I told her you wouldn't be able to."

"Well, I'm sure Severus would let me, if I asked," Harry said defensively, not sure he liked how Ron was implying that his father was a jail-keeper of some sort. "But I think it'll be…" he stopped, there, unwilling to continue. If Ron thought so poorly of his father, he didn't want to sit there and talk about how great he thought it might be to spend some time with him.

"We understand, Harry," Hermione said softly, grasping his hand from across the table. She glanced at Ron, whose expression was clearly meant to contradict what she had just said. She amended, "Well, _I_ understand. I'm glad you finally have someone, Harry."

"Even if it is someone like Snape," Ron agreed, nodding. He winced a moment later, as Hermione swiftly kicked him from underneath the table.

"_Especially_ someone like Professor Snape," Hermione corrected him, fixing him with a stern glare that reminded Harry sorely of one of the professors' own patented looks. "No offense, Harry, but I think it serves you well to have someone who will keep you in line."

Harry laughed softly and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose you're right in that aspect," he concurred, glancing up towards the head table with a fond look on his face. He wasn't about to say it out loud, but he almost liked having an authority figure like Snape around- his decisions weren't solely his own, because he knew that if he made one Severus wouldn't agree with, he was in for it. He'd managed to go a long time without angering the man, and he wasn't eager to change that.

Of course, the incident in Duftown several weeks ago had brought Severus close to anger, but Harry felt that the stern lecture he'd received afterwards had barely rippled the surface of the deep, dark, treacherous pool that was the temper of Severus Snape. No, Severus had been more relieved and disappointed than anything that day. Some children might say that with an adult, disappointment could feel worse than anger… Harry had to disagree… approval Harry could earn back; Severus' wrath left memories that Harry would never forget.

Of course, disappointment did make Harry feel guiltier than… why was he even contemplating this? Was his sleeve in the mushy peas again? Damn, it was.

"Er- Hermione, could you…?"

Hermione half huffed, half laughed, and pulled out her wand to oblige.

"Miss Granger, isn't there a rule about using magic outside of class?" inquired a cool voice from behind Harry. He didn't have to examine Hermione's shocked expression and faltering speech to realize who was standing behind him.

He craned his neck to look at his father's face, and saw that he was smirking down at the bushy haired girl in front of Harry. Harry shook his head; the man really took too much pleasure in making students quail before him.

"I- I was just," Hermione's high-pitched voice stuttered defensively, motioning to Harry's sleeve, which was now clean again and of no use to her case.

"Perhaps," Severus said, tapping his finger to his chin, "I should take House points."

"Or perhaps not," Harry negated, raising an eyebrow at his father's antics. Part of him was relieved to see that he was in pleasant enough a mood to want to play with his students' minds; the other part was sorely unappreciative of that fact.

"Oh, well, if _you_ don't believe points ought to be taken, clearly I am mistaken," Severus said mockingly, taking a step back so Harry could rise from his seat.

"I'm glad you see things my way," Harry responded, smiling in satisfaction and straightening his robes.

Severus merely grunted in response and gave the boy an appraising look. "You should hang up your robes instead of stuffing them in your trunk," he commented, raising his upper lip slightly and reaching forward to inspect the wrinkled fabric of his collar. "I'll have to teach you some helpful organization spells, since you clearly lack the incentive to take care of your things the old-fashioned way."

Harry laughed.

Severus lifted his eyes briefly to the ceiling and thought to himself that it had been rather presumptuous of the boy to display mirth at his disapproval, for he had been completely serious. "I just stopped by to tell you to join me when you're done here."

"Oh, okay," said Harry, moving to sit back down. "Any specific time, or-"

"Simply when it is agreeable to you. I'm going to take advantage of this time and inspect the Slytherin common rooms, but I should be done with that soon. I will be in my office when you come to find me."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

Severus stopped for a moment before leaving, looked the boy over, and said, "We'll have to talk about that, too."

Before Harry could change his expression to one of befuddlement, Severus had swept away towards the other end of the Great Hall, leaving Harry to wonder what his last comment had meant.

xxx

Somehow, Harry's housemates had managed to detain him for a full hour after Severus had left his table. Had it not been for Hermione, he might have never left. She had huffily shooed him off, and informed him that it was very rude to keep his father waiting. He supposed she was right. After all, as a professor, he had a schedule to keep.

Harry knocked on the door, and found that it was already ajar as it opened slightly. He nudged the door open the rest of the way and peered inside.

Seated behind his desk, with his feet unceremoniously propped up in front of him and leaning back in his chair, was a very soundly asleep Professor Snape. Harry smiled to himself and closed the door behind him, tiptoeing inside and coming to stand directly at his father's side.

"Having a nice nap, sir?" he inquired loudly, standing almost directly above the man's ear.

A loud curse and a crash followed. Severus quickly tumbled backwards, having been startled, and Harry watched in amusement as his long legs flew up from the desk and ascended into the air, landing Severus abruptly on the hard stone floor.

"I'm sorry," Harry laughed, "But I just couldn't resist."

Severus stood up hastily, embarrassed, and began brushing off his robes. "Do not forget, boy," he growled, fisting the front of Harry's robes (and he was rather pleased when he achieved the desired result; Harry stared back at him with wide eyes, and his breathing noticeably hitched), "that you are alone with me for two weeks… I have plenty of time to exact full retribution for whatever misdeeds you do me in the interim."

The firm grip on Harry's collar and the dangerous tone of Severus' voice were enough to keep Harry from laughing again. Sobered considerably, He nodded feebly and muttered a half-hearted apology, relieved when he was released.

"Honestly," Severus muttered to himself, righting his chair and sending Harry another forbidding look.

Harry considered the upshot of asking Severus why he'd asked Harry to come to his office after dinner. He wondered if the man would simply answer, or if he would take it as disrespect and put Harry in his place (and he was in just the sort of mood that would make the latter option a very good possibility).

"Just out of curiosity, sir," said Harry carefully, fully aware that he was treading on dangerous grounds. "Is there any specific reason you asked me here tonight?"

"Of course not," Severus replied facetiously. "What reason could I possibly have for requesting your presence?"

Those words stung. Harry knew they were meant to be taken as a joke; nevertheless… for a moment, Harry felt he was looking back at the face of the same rancorous professor he'd been encountering for the past five years. Harry forced a smile and a small chuckle, shrugging his shoulders.

Severus was not oblivious to the wounded look that had crossed Harry's face; he was in a bad way with his temper tonight, and being rudely awoken, and then laughed at, of all things, had not ameliorated matters.

"My apologies," Severus intoned quietly, looking away from the boy. "I did not intend to… to insult you so."

It was a far cry from an adequate apology, Severus felt, but apologizing had never been Severus' forte.

"S'okay," said Harry, sitting down and habitually pushing his hair down over his forehead, vainly attempting to make it flatter. Severus noticed, with a pang of guilt, that this was one of those habits that only showed its face during moments of insecurity.

"I'm sure you don't appreciate me showing up and interrupting your work," Harry said offhandedly. "It's just the truth, you needn't apologize-"

"Please, Harry," Severus said with difficulty, grimacing at the almost sympathetic and yet pathetic note in his voice. "Don't. I do enjoy your company… I had meant… disregard what I said. I enjoy having you come see me during the afternoons and weekends. I was making an attempt at dry humour when I said that; it was not at all intended to imply the false notion that I have no reason to enjoy your presence. I… I find myself looking forward to your visits, actually."

"Oh…" Harry said, trying not to appear too touched by this sentiment. He knew how uncomfortable this was making the man, and figured it would be best not to make a big deal out of it. By the stoicism of his father's face and tone, he could tell this is what the man wanted. "Well, I look forward to visiting. I'll- er- what did you- oh yes. I'll disregard what you said."

"Thank you," Severus said, making an effort not to breathe a sigh of relief at the close of this particular segment of the conversation. He took a seat opposite Harry, wondering how it was that Harry had ended up seated behind his desk, with him, Severus, seated in front of it. He felt very much the student he'd been twenty years ago. "I called you down here," Severus started, ignoring this minor detail, "to inform you that Professor McGonagall has agreed to escort you to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon. She will meet you in the entrance hall at 2:30, which is when your last lesson of the day concludes."

"Magical Disguising," Harry said, nodding.

"Yes," said Severus. "I will give her money for you to use-"

"No, that's okay," Harry said, waving his hands. "I have a vault at Gringotts-"

"You do realize that being my son, it is now my position to care for you, correct?"

"Well, that's fine, but-"

"And it is your position to allow me to do so, understood?"

"Well, you can, but-"

"And I demand that you begin saving that money for your life as an adult, is that quite clear?"

"Yes, but-"

"Good."

"I really don't think-"

"Stop arguing with me."

"Sir-"

"That is another thing I wanted to discuss with you," Severus said, leaning forwards and folding his hands on the desk.

"What is?"

Severus hesitated for a moment, closely inspecting his hands. Part of him felt that by asking the boy to address him more informally, he was forcing a certain amount of closeness upon him; a closeness which Severus was not even sure he was ready for yet. However, he could guess that the boy believed he was expected to finish each sentence with 'sir', and he had not shown any interest in taking Severus' proffer to call him by his first name.

"Sir?"

Severus looked up sharply…This had to stop.

"I would like you to consider calling me something other than 'sir'," Severus said carefully, stealing a glance at Harry's expression with narrowed eyes. The boy fidgeted uncomfortably, but said nothing for a few moments. "Giving me respect is beneficial to your well being, of course," Severus said, standing up and leaning against the desk, "but I feel we've…"

How could he state this comfortably?

"Moved past the teacher-student relationship?" Harry uneasily finished for him, looking unsure of himself even as he said it.

"Yes," Severus agreed, nodding. "We have."

"Well… what would I call you?" Harry asked, eyes darting around the room as though searching for an escape. "You told me once to call you Severus, but that just doesn't…"

"Yes, I agree," Severus said. "At the time, however, I didn't wish to force you to call me Professor, and I certainly wasn't comfortable with any more intimate a title."

"And now?" questioned Harry.

"You called me 'Dad' once," Severus said, trying to ignore the distinct feeling of being suffocated that arose whenever he became exceedingly uncomfortable and out of his element. "May I ask why?"

"I was wondering if you'd bring that up," Harry muttered, mostly to himself. "I don't know… it just… slipped out, I guess."

"Did it seem… fitting?" Severus asked, shuddering at the awkwardness of his own tone and choice of words.

"I don't know… I wasn't really thinking about it at the time. But yeah, I guess, it did."

"Well," Severus said, clearing his throat. "I would not be averse to… more frequent use of such a title."

Harry nodded, and in attempt to lighten the mood, said, "Now who's being too formal?"

"Oh, hush up, you impertinent little imp," Severus said, pushing away from his desk and crossing the room in a few long strides.

"I am not an imp," Harry objected, following him.

"Oh, you most certainly are," Severus rebutted, raising a challenging eyebrow. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you have a written charms exam tomorrow for which you need to prepare."

"How do you know I didn't already prepare?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"Because_ you_ are lazy," Severus said, slowly pronouncing every syllable and staring formidably down his beakish nose at Harry. "And given the choice, you will always procrastinate. I've always known that about you; it is one of your unchanging qualities."

"Well, I've recently got my act together," Harry said, blocking the door that Severus was about to pull open.

Severus smirked, and said, "Really?"

"Yes," Harry said, nodding fervently.

Admittedly, Severus was a bit flattered that the boy seemed to want to stay, instead of heading back to his common room to study, but he couldn't very well allow him to do so. This was one of those times when Harry did need the help of one Hermione Granger, because Severus wasn't about to help him study and then be nailed to the proverbial wall with the accusation of helping a student to cheat.

"What are the five types of movement magic?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows and waiting expectantly for Harry's falter.

"Er- we haven't covered that, yet," Harry lied, trying to look innocent. Admittedly, they had… but he only knew three, and he didn't know much beyond that.

"Right," Severus said skeptically, jerking the door open and pointing down the hallway. "Go study."

He watched in amusement as Harry grumbled to himself and started off at a slow trudge towards the Gryffindor common room.

xxx

Knowing that Severus would verify whether or not Harry had studied through his test results, he had gone straight to the common room and sought out Hermione that night. The first things he'd learned were the five types of movement magic; he could only hope that had been a hint of some sort. Surely Severus would have some idea of what was to be on his test.

The Charms test the next morning went surprisingly well. To Harry's pleasant surprise, a good portion of the exam did cover the five types of movement magic and the charms that area encompassed. Thanks to Hermione's help, he felt he did well on the other portions of the test as well, including objects which could be charmed to move and which object properties had to be taken into account when selecting the appropriate movement charm.

Since McGonagall was taking Harry to Hogsmeade directly after his last class of the day, Harry had resolved that the best time to see Dumbledore was most likely during lunch. The man rarely ate his midday meal at the staff table; the same was true for most of the staff. Only the Heads of Houses normally sat in the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

So, as Charms concluded and the rest of the students headed towards the Great Hall, Harry made a departure from the masses and headed in the opposite direction. He reckoned this might be an enjoyable chat; after his conversation with Severus last night, he didn't feel so awkward about getting his father a present. The man was obviously open to furthering their relationship, and this felt like a reasonable course of action. After all, kids got their parents presents all the time… why should Harry be embarrassed to talk to Dumbledore about it? And despite that ever present twinkle in the mad old man's eyes, Harry missed speaking with him. He hadn't much done so since the beginning of the year.

Harry approached the statue, clutching the parchment with the password that Hermione had given him, and looking around to make sure Severus wasn't swooping about anywhere nearby. The man had a nasty habit of turning up at the most inopportune times.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Harry spoke the password and watched as the stairs revolved and revealed themselves to him. Harry stepped on and waited for them to lift him to Dumbledore's office, unable to be bothered by climbing them.

Harry was surprised to see, when he reached the top, that Dumbledore's door was already propped open. He took a few steps forward, placed his hands on the door frame, and leaned inside to look around.

"Harry, my dear boy," Dumbledore exclaimed from somewhere across the room, causing Harry to jump slightly.

"Headmaster?" Harry asked, scanning the room for the concealed Wizard.

"One moment, Harry," Dumbledore said, and Harry heard a loud clatter.

"Are you alright, Professor Dumbledore?"

"Quite!" came the muffled reply.

Harry frowned, but said nothing more as he seated himself in front of Dumbledore's desk. He allowed his gaze to wander over the office, full of raffish charm and holding an abundance of peculiar and antiquated items. It had been far too long since he'd visited, he now found himself contemplating. Gone were the days when he would avoid coming to adults out of fear that he might be turned away, or tacitly unwanted. If Severus could look forward to his presence, certainly his other elders could as well. He'd always been under the impression that when one said 'my door is always open to you' it had been little more than a formality; a standard phrase programmed into adult's minds, much like children became adapted to automatically responding with 'I understand', "Yes, sir," or, in some cases, 'I didn't do it'.

As Dumbledore emerged with his hat tilted to the side and disentangling a stray Christmas ornament from his long, white beard, Harry made up his mind to make a point of visiting the man more often after the Holidays.

"Forgive me," Dumbledore said as he sat down at his desk, gently placing the Christmas ornament aside. "I was attempting to package my outgoing gifts now, before the Holidays begin, lest I be unable to do so when that week finally arrives. My weeks are rather unpredictable, as of late."

Harry nodded earnestly. "I'm sorry for interrupting you," he said, though he had no intention of leaving.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied dismissively. "Not at all. How may I be of assistance to you?"

"Actually, I was wondering if you might have some advice for me," Harry said, shifting in his seat. "I'm going to be shopping for Christmas presents today… and to be honest, I haven't a clue what to get Sev- er, what to get my father." Harry tested out this term, and admittedly, felt a bit uncomfortable using it. However, it was something he had to get used to; otherwise, he would spend the rest of his life skirting around the title. He supposed the best way to start was to use it around other people first… get used to the idea.

Dumbledore nodded, and a smile crept across his face. "How is everything between you two?"

"Er-fine," Harry answered, a bit thrown off by this evasive change of topic.

Dumbledore nodded. "I have it on good authority that you've been going down to visit him quite often."

"Yeah," Harry said, dipping his chin in affirmative response. "I- it's nice, having someone to visit who doesn't expect me to be a certain way… I don't have to talk or put on a show of being cheerful… and he gives good advice."

Oh, this was annoying. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling like mad, and his smile was all too joyful. "I often find that to be an engaging quality of Severus'," Dumbledore agreed. "He's very truthful in his advice giving, and as he makes no effort to change his disposition for others, he will never expect such a thing from anyone else."

"Yeah," said Harry, wondering if Dumbledore was going to answer his question.

"You are looking forward to spending the Holidays with your father then, yes?" Dumbledore asked.

Apparently, he wasn't yet ready to get around to Harry's query. Harry supposed he could blame the fact that he hadn't visited in so long; Dumbledore was obviously attempting to engage him longer than planned. Ah, well. Harry decided he would give in and allow Dumbledore to involve him in a conversation.

"Yes; aside from the essays I have to write as punishment for the whole Duftown incident, I think it might be fun," Harry admitted.

"Ah, yes, Severus told me about those essays," said Dumbledore.

"I didn't expect him to be so reasonable," Harry said quietly. He couldn't explain why he still felt guilty, now that the ordeal was over and he'd received his punishment. One would think that by receiving a reasonable punishment, he would be more elated than remorseful.

"He might not have been, had he not been so touched by the fact that you risked your life _for him_," Dumbledore softly intoned, evaluating Harry's expression carefully. "Oh yes," he said, when Harry looked up with his eyebrows raised in question. "He was extremely heartened by that fact; he didn't expect it, you see."

"Why wouldn't he expect it?"

"Harry, like you yourself are still feeling guilty despite the atonement you are doing for your crimes, Severus continues to feel shame and regret for the way he treated you in the past. Though he's apologized and improved his behavior a great deal, he still feels undeserving of your forgiveness and apparent dedication."

"When did he say this?"

"Well, a rendition of this was said to Professor McGonagall just last weekend."

"During the Quidditch match?" Harry asked, remembering seeing McGonagall and his father sitting together.

Dumbledore nodded.

Harry wasn't sure how to feel about this. It was gratifying to know that Severus' opinion about him had changed so much that he honestly felt apologetic for the way he had treated Harry in the past. At the same time, it seemed unfair that despite Severus' improved effort towards being kind to him, he had to suffer for the way he'd acted in the past. Had Harry properly shown his appreciation for everything Severus had done? Had he actually come out and thanked him for his kindness?

"You have made much more difference in Severus' life than I ever would have expected, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, bringing Harry out of his reflections. "I've told Severus many a time, but I haven't had an opportunity to tell you; I was wrong to keep this from the two of you for so long. You've both handled the situation admirably."

It took Harry a moment to speak, but he managed a choked, "Thank you."

Thinking back to the beginning of the year, Harry realized that he and Severus had both come a long way. Yes, they still endured awkward silences and had difficulty knowing how to communicate, but it was getting better. Their relationship was getting better, and for the first time, Harry wasn't hesitating to go to an adult with his problems. Having Severus as a father was more beneficial than he'd ever expected; he found himself making better choices, getting better marks, and feeling much more at ease when trouble arose. He finally had a stable father figure; someone he could rely on to be there for him at any time. For now, that meant going down to see the man on weekends and afternoons. When the time for Harry to battle Voldemort came closer, he knew he would have his father there to rely on. And when the end finally came, if he was left standing… Severus would be there to put him back together as he would surely fall apart.

"Now, I believe you wanted advice on what to get your father for Christmas," said Dumbledore, sitting forward and drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "Yes, a puzzling query indeed- one I've been attempting to solve for the better part of these past two decades." Harry chuckled, and Dumbledore added, "He is a difficult man to shop for, no?"

Harry nodded. "I just… I've only really known him for about six months, if you think about it."

"How wise of you, Harry, to realize that," Dumbledore said. "Many people think they know Severus; few really do. I'm pleased to say that you are one of those few, however."

"Yeah," Harry agreed somewhat bashfully. He wished Dumbledore would stop commenting on the growing relationship between him and Severus, but this seemed to be the sort of thing Dumbledore couldn't get enough of. "So… what do you think?"

"Ah, what I think," Dumbledore breathed, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head towards the ceiling. "It is not my opinion, Harry, that matters here. My perception of Severus' preferences may be completely different from what you have observed. In the end, the gift should be coming from you."

_Well, that was helpful_, Harry thought sardonically to himself. "But, sir, I don't even know where to start."

"What is something that would be both practical and meaningful to your father?" Dumbledore asked, maintaining eye contact with the ceiling.

_I don't know! That's why I'm asking you! _Harry wanted to scream, but refrained from doing so.

"Well… I was hoping you could tell me what he likes," Harry said, shrugging.

"Severus won't admit to liking many things," Dumbledore chuckled. "He buys Potions ingredients for his classes and books for his leisure, but it's doubtful you will be able to choose a reasonably priced volume which he does not already own, or has not already chosen to veto."

"Well, what do you get him every year?" Harry asked, becoming more and more frustrated by the minute.

"My dear boy, do you really think I want you stealing all my gift ideas?" Dumbledore asked, finally tearing his gaze from the ceiling. He laughed, to Harry's relief, and leaned back again, continuing, "I normally give him a large bottle of cognac and whichever book he informs me he's interested in obtaining. That is the standard gift, if you want to know- though I doubt he's informed you of his latest predilection for books, and I very highly doubt Professor McGonagall will allow you to walk into Hogwarts carrying a bottle of expensive liquor.

"Now, you asked me what I get him every year, and I have told you. However, I often find that the most meaningful parts of my gifts come from things I have picked up over the year, which I find remind me of Severus in some way- things that I know he would appreciate. He hardly expresses exuberant gratitude for any gifts, mind you… but you can see in his eyes when he truly finds a gift to be worthwhile.

"Don't meditate too deeply on this, Harry. It will come to you. The fact that you thought of him will be what matters to Severus in the end, trust my words."

"I wouldn't guess he was so sentimental," Harry said, half jokingly.

"Perhaps I wouldn't call it sentimentality," Dumbledore disagreed, leaning forward. "I might call it a healthy appreciation for small gestures. Severus has never been one for grandeur."

"No, I suppose not," Harry agreed truthfully. Come to think if it, Dumbledore was right. Though Severus undoubtedly had an appreciation for finer things, great shows of opulence were hardly commonplace with the man. It was one of the things Harry liked about him; he was proper, but not arrogant about what he had. What he had accomplished… maybe. But he wasn't what Harry might call materialistic.

"One more question," Harry said, sitting forward a bit, feeling uneasy about asking this at all. "Severus said he's given money to Professor McGonagall for me to shop with… I know it's an intrusion on his privacy to ask how much money he has… but is he… is he in any position to be giving me money, when I have my own?"

"As your father, yes, he is in the perfect position to be providing for you," Dumbledore answered, raising an eyebrow and giving him a slightly reproachful look. "If you're asking if he has enough money to support both of you, my answer is yes- but that is all I'll say on that matter."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said, relieved. "That's all I needed to know."

"You're quite welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Now, I believe you have fifteen minutes to get down to the Great Hall and eat lunch before the house elves clear it away. I trust you will come by more often, my boy? Your absence has been most missed."

"I will, Headmaster," Harry assured him sincerely, smiling and moving towards the door. "Have a good afternoon."

"I believe I will, Harry. Now go, before you miss your last window of opportunity to eat a good meal; you have a busy night ahead of you."

"That I do," Harry said, nodding one last time and turning to head down the spiraling stone steps.

Hungry, he ran all the way down to the Great Hall, relieved to find there was still food there when he arrived.

xxx

"Harry, pay attention," Hermione hissed, jabbing him in the ribs with her hard elbow. "This is important."

Harry rolled his eyes and attempted to refocus his attention on the teacher in front of the class. He didn't much like this class; so far, they'd covered only things Harry already knew. The first few days they'd been given a chance to try out an invisibility cloak, and the person who was able to go the longest without being discovered by another classmate was given the highest grade. Naturally, Harry had won. They'd spent an entire three weeks studying metamorphmagi, which Harry found to be entirely unnecessary. None of the students in the class _were _metamorphmagi, so what was the point in learning how to control those powers?

Currently, the Professor was talking about different forms of Polyjuice potion. Hermione was busily scribbling notes on all the different types one could make, but in Harry's opinion, this was entirely unhelpful. They weren't being given the chore of brewing the potions, as this was not Potions class; how would knowing the various formulas help them if they didn't know how to brew them? Besides, Polyjuice took far too long to brew anyways; it wasn't something that was going to help Harry if he got stuck in a sticky situation.

He wanted to move onto the interesting stuff. The syllabus for the second half of the year looked wonderful. They would be covering voice replication spells, facial reconstruction spells, bone growth and reduction spells, and a number of others. Harry would pay attention then. Now? This seemed a waste of time. The N.E.W.T. only covered the core subjects; if Harry didn't remember all the forms of Polyjuice at the end of the year, it would be of no consequence to him.

"Harry," Hermione again whispered angrily. Her hushed yell fell rather more loudly than her normal speaking voice would have done.

"What, Hermione?" Harry hissed back through clenched teeth. Who did she think she was, his mother?

"If you don't start taking notes, I'll inform Professor Snape next time we meet that you are taking school far too lightly," she said snippily, never taking her eyes from her paper. Harry just smirked; he knew she did not intend to do any such thing.

"No one likes a snitch, Hermione," Ron warned from her other side, scrawling lazily as he had already been manipulated into taking notes.

"Harry does; he's a seeker," Hermione quipped, though her expression was far from amused. "Harry, I'm sorry, but it's for your own good," she said, pushing a piece of parchment in front of him.

Harry found it slightly amusing that their Professor had not said a word during the entirety of their hushed conversation; his focus was on the back of the room, where two Slytherins were passing a piece of parchment back and forth and snickering loudly at whatever they'd put on it. Harry rolled his eyes as the Professor glared at the back of the room, but continued teaching. Some of these new teachers really had no spine when they thought their students were capable of retaliation.

Shaking his head, he picked up his quill and began taking notes.

When class finally ended, Hermione and Ron accompanied Harry back to the common room to get his things.

"How long will you be gone tonight?" Hermione asked as Harry unloaded his schoolbooks onto his four poster and began to fill his bag with all the necessary items. He shrugged as he crumpled his invisibility cloak into a ball and shoved it into the bag.

"I don't know. Depends how long it takes me to find something Sever- my father would like."

Ron made a face and said, "It's really foul of Snape to make you go with McGonagall to buy Christmas gifts, if you ask me."

Harry's face heated up, and he had a feeling it was turning an unattractive shade of red. He kept his head down and said in what he hoped was a dismissive tone, "Yeah, well, at least he's made an effort to let me go."

Ron snorted and sat down on the bed. "Yeah, with McGonagall. If you ask me, it was a wonky punishment in the first place. I mean, how can he expect to keep you confined for so long? He's going to have to let you out eventually."

"Ron," Harry said, looking up at his friend and keeping his knuckles planted on the bed. "Please shut up."

"What?" Ron asked defensively, looking at Hermione, who shook her head as if to say 'I'm not getting involved with this'.

"I'm only saying-"

"I know what you're saying, Ron, and I asked you to shut up," Harry said, throwing his pocket money into the bag, closing it, and slinging it up over his shoulder. He turned without another word and started heading for the stairs. Hermione and Ron followed, but remained silent until they arrived at the Entrance Hall.

"I'll be ok from here, guys, thanks," Harry muttered, picking up his pace and strolling to the other end of the hall to wait by the doors.

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks, but made no effort to protest. Harry ignored them as they walked away, opting instead to lean against the wall and stare out over the grounds. Ron was his best friend, and always would be, but he could be so thick sometimes it was ridiculous. Harry had put up with his carping on Severus for a long time now; he had hoped that with time, the unattractive habit would see itself out of Ron's personality. It hadn't, though. It had definitely stuck; Ron had known for months, and he still hadn't changed his opinion about Snape at all. Of course, it didn't help that Snape had gone from picking on Harry to picking on Ron in the halls, but most of his taunting was good natured… from Harry's point of view. Harry grimaced at that thought, and made note to talk to his father about that.

Professor McGonagall arrived several minutes later, walking briskly towards Harry and snapping at a few stray Ravenclaws who had not yet gone to class.

"Terribly sorry to be so late, Potter," McGonagall said as she strode up to him, checking through her bag for something. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, though he didn't move. He stood awkwardly in front of the door, waiting for her to say something else.

"Well? Let's not dawdle, Potter, it's a long walk down to the village," McGonagall snapped, though she smiled ever so thinly as she said it. Harry grinned and started out the door and onto the grounds.

"Do you know where you want to stop first?" McGonagall asked as they reached the gates. She raised her wand, tapped them, and they slowly opened to allow them leave.

"Well, is there a good bookshop in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, thinking immediately of Hermione. She would be the easiest to shop for, undoubtedly.

"There are two," McGonagall informed him, nodding. "There's a smaller one next to Honeydukes; they've not much of a selection, mostly just the kinds of books you might buy as replacements if you lost yours during the school year. There's another across from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, which has a wider variety to choose from. I assume you are thinking of Miss Granger?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "She seems to be the best person to start with; I know what she'll like."

McGonagall nodded and continued walking.

It didn't take Harry long to find the perfect gift for Hermione, much to his relief. He didn't much like bookshops; the smell of books, crisp parchment, and fresh ink reminded him all too conspicuously of homework, for obvious reasons. He paid for his book and left the shop, stopping (much to Professor McGonagall's chagrin) in the middle of the street to decide where to go next.

Hogsmeade was a small town, and Harry was well aware that he had not many options. There was a small shop down the street that was dedicated to muggle objects; it looked interesting, but Harry very much doubted he would find anything in that shop for his father. Harry considered it for a moment, and then rejected the idea. He would go there later if he had time.

There were the typical stops at Zonko's and Honeydukes that needed to be made, but as Harry well knew his way around those two shops, he resigned himself to visiting those at the end of the trip.

Eliminating those two, and clearly having no need to visit the post office, quill shop, or magical device repair, he was left with some quaint little shops that he knew nothing about. Giving McGonagall an apologetic glance, Harry began to wander down the street, looking for something that might interest him. There was a young ladies apparel shop, right next to the wizard garments shop. Harry very much doubted he'd find anything in there to give to either of his female friends, and he certainly wasn't about to give his father a pair of lacy underclothing for Christmas.

A little ways down the street was a small apothecary. McGonagall sighted it first and suggested it as a place to get Severus' gift, but Harry declined. Everyone he had spoken to had seemed to agree that to get Severus potions ingredients, which he would probably use to teach his classes, seemed a bit impersonal. And in Harry's opinion, the thought of reaching under the Christmas tree and unwrapping a jar with a pickled newt, or something equally disgusting, floating around sounded absolutely revolting.

Harry couldn't have been more pleased when he stumbled across a stand full of Quidditch memorabilia, right outside of Derbish and shopkeeper was a small, bright looking wizard, hilariously covered head to foot in the attire of the Vidlin Valkyries. He smiled kindly and waved his little flag.

"Just looking?" the shopkeeper asked in a low voice, which didn't suit his appearance.

"Yeah, Christmas presents," Harry said tiredly, nodding. He'd not been in Hogsmeade an hour, and he was already tired of shopping. It was very boring work when he wasn't with his friends; normally, half the fun was buying their presents while they weren't looking, constantly on the verge of being caught. Harry supposed that was his Gryffindor side coming out; he liked adventure, even the smallest kinds.

"Well," said the little wizard, "We have a wide variation of apparel representing the many Quidditch teams of the United Kingdom, and if you step around to the other side of the cart, there are some more amusing items which might interest your friends."

"Thank you," Harry said, hoping to silence the shopkeeper. He kept talking, however.

"Everything on this cart is less than twenty-five galleons, aside from the autographed photos, which are all forty."

Harry nodded as a stack of signed photos was shoved under his nose; he regretfully took them, and tried not to sigh exasperatedly as he began sifting through the pile. It took him a good ten minutes to get down to the bottom of the deck, at which time he shook his head and handed them back to the wizard.

"No?" the wizard asked, looking a bit put out.

Harry shook his head. There had been no photos of Chudley Cannon players, and as far as he knew, Ron wasn't especially interested in any other teams.

Without saying another word to the shopkeeper, Harry edged around to the other side of the cart. Smiling, he bent down and inspected the moving figures behind the clear glass doors of the cart. At the World Cup, there had been moving figurines representing different Quidditch players. These were entire Quidditch stadiums, complete with the entire team working in formation, passing the ball back and forth and trying to score on their keeper. They looked to be engaging in a team practice. Harry watched in amusement as one player scored a goal, and the whole team turned around, smiled, and waved at him. Grinning, Harry stood up.

"These little working figurines of Quidditch Teams," Harry started to the shopkeeper, pointing down at the glass. "Do you have any of the Chudley Cannons?"

The shopkeeper grimaced. "The company I buy from provides them, but they're not a very popular team, so I haven't any on stock. However, if you would like to place a post order, I can have one delivered to you before Christmas."

Harry resisted pointing out that the Vidlin Valkyries were hardly well known.

"Perhaps within the next week?" he asked, and the shopkeeper nodded. "How much?"

"Seven galleons for sending costs-"

Harry frowned as the shopkeeper spoke. How much money did it take to send an owl?

"-Five for packaging-"

Funny, Harry would have thought packaging would have been a sending cost.

"-Ten for ordering directly from the company-"

Weren't things less expensive coming directly from their makers?

"-and you may add those small fees to the twenty-five galleons they are marked for sale here."

Harry's forehead crinkled up as he made a concentrated effort to add up those sums. If he was correct, that came to forty-seven galleons. It seemed a bit ridiculous to pay almost double for a team that, according to this wizard, wasn't even that popular. Harry looked at McGonagall, who was staring with narrowed eyes and an unhappy expression at the shopkeeper. She gave him a barely perceptible shake of the head, but made no effort to move. Harry took it that he was supposed to argue this price.

"I don't really think this is worth nearly fifty galleons," Harry said, turning back to the shopkeeper. "I suppose I'll have to look elsewhere-"

Flustered, the little man shook his little head and quickly blurted out, "Well, perhaps we can negotiate the price a bit! If you buy one of these here-" he paused as he pulled out a heavily laden rack of Quidditch themed jewelry, "-fine pieces of jewelry, we can take ten percent off the overall price. I'm sure there's a young girl who's caught your interest- perhaps a present for her?"

"Oh, really?" Harry asked. The shopkeeper nodded vigorously. Harry considered this for a moment. He couldn't think of a girl that he particularly fancied at the moment, and Hermione wouldn't much enjoy any of these… but then again, he was spending Boxing Day at the burrow… and Ginny had been spending an awful lot of time around him, Ron, and Hermione lately. She might be hurt if she wasn't given anything, and Harry really wanted to get this for Ron. "And how much are these?" Harry asked, gesturing towards the necklaces the wizard was pulling off the rack.

"Well, they're made with fine silver-"

"How much?" McGonagall clipped from beside Harry.

The man flinched at her cold tone, and said, "Twenty-two galleons."

"So you'll take seven galleons off the overall price, then?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrow and looking at him almost bemusedly. It was plain to see that she thought this was a ridiculous offer.

The man visibly swallowed and looked hopefully towards Harry, as though expecting some sort of support from him. Harry offered none. Instead, he said, "I'll give you fifty galleons for the lot. Take it or leave it."

This did not appear to make the small shopkeeper happy. He crossed his arms, sat back, and examined Harry for a moment, as though searching for areas of weakness which he might attack. "Fine," he said after a moment, and then sheepishly grabbed a pad of paper off his stand. "…If you'll sign your autograph for my daughter."

Harry was annoyed by this request, but decided to comply. After all, he was getting two Christmas presents for the price of one… well, the highly overpriced price of one. He signed the pad of paper, handed over the galleons, and began filling out his post order form.

Growing noticeably weary of wandering the streets without apparent aim, McGonagall suggested the next store, saying they would most likely find the best gifts for Severus there. The two Heads of House didn't exchange gifts, McGonagall had clarified, but she did seem to know his taste. Nothing overly sentimental, yet nothing so general and common that it could be given as a gift to anyone. And, the man liked quality. As a result, Harry had a very hard time looking for gifts in this store; they were all quite expensive.

Harry still didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to spend his own money. The Dursleys had never had any qualms with this; they certainly made no effort to provide for him. If they had qualms with anything, it was that Harry was able to provide for himself, not that they weren't able to give him their money.

This shop was dim, but well kept. Where rays of sunshine streaked through the window and across the floor, one could see the small particles of dust hovering in the air. The items on the shelves were old and antiquated, yet rare and beautiful in their own right. Some appeared to be newly made, but the fashion in which they were crafted suggested their making had originated centuries ago. McGonagall remained close to Harry, explaining different items in which he showed interest.

Harry tried to follow every piece of advice he had been given regarding Severus' present. Harry looked for something that would express some sort of sentiment, but was practical at the same time. He looked for something personal, but nothing that would make Severus feel as though he had been analyzed to the point of intrusiveness. He looked for something of value, but nothing extravagant.

It was an extremely challenging search.

It was when all seemed lost and Harry was brought to the brink of capitulation that something finally caught his eye. On a high ledge next to the purchasing counter sat perched a display of a large map, a small, jagged, indigo crystal, and a larger, smooth, ovular, white orb.

"Excuse me, ma'am, may I ask what this is?" Harry asked, addressing a young, dark looking woman who was watching him from behind the counter.

She could be considered attractive; she had an unrefined look about her that was, to a certain extent, charming. She was young, and had smiled warmly at Harry when he'd walked through the door; unexpected, for she didn't look like the friendly type. She wore a loosely hanging, gauzy crimson dress that reminded Harry of a gypsy's attire. Her long, claret colored nails curled a bit at the end, seemingly in need of a good trim, but not likely to receive one. She wore her wiry black curls tied back into one long, low hanging tress, aside from the strands that fell around her face.

"Please don't call me ma'am, it makes me feel old," she said, rising from where she sat and coming over to where he stood. "My name is Eithre; you may address me as such. You wanted to know about this?"

She touched the item above Harry's head, making him feel rather short, as he hadn't been able to reach. She was very tall, and the high, thin heel on the back of her shoe gave her several inches on him.

Harry nodded. "What does it do?"

"Notice that this crystal is a deep indigo," Eithre instructed, extending it to him. "It doesn't start out that way. Are you familiar with the theory of one's magical aura in relation to colors?"

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and wondering vaguely if it was something he might see on his N.E.W.T.

Eithre nodded and began to explain. "Your magical aura is something like your own individual signature. It is unique to you; no one else will have quite the same aura as you do. As you grow into an accomplished wizard, experience new events and emotions, and gain more knowledge, your aura may change. It is linked to you, as a person, and will transform along with your ideas, beliefs, and personality.

"A crystal may be used to recognize one's magical signature. By channeling your magic through this crystal, just once, it will learn to recognize that signature, and remain suited to do so. That is the reason for the color; what does the color this stone tell you about the person to which it is attuned?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders and feeling like quite an idiot.

Eithre smiled, and flipped the crystal over in her hands a few time. "This crystal contains the signature of my magical aura. It represents my distinctive ability to understand myself and to allow ideas and inspiration to spring from within. As a point of interest, it coincides with my wand wood- Rosewood. It's a wood known for one with the ability to understand matters of the heart."

"So this is… a key to understanding your magical personality?"

To Harry's displeasure, Eithre laughed quietly. "No," she admitted, shaking her head. "You must be wondering why I'm telling you all this. This crystal can be used to track the one it is linked to, when used in coordination with this map and this orb. This orb is spelled to only respond to the first person who uses it; it will show you where a person is and what they are doing. It is an extremely safe way of keeping track of someone you care about."

Harry stared at the crystal in her hand for a moment. This. This was the perfect gift to give Severus. It was a perfect expression of trust, just personal and practical enough to do the trick. What better way existed to show him that though they had once had their differences, that was behind them? At one time, Harry had spent his time deceiving and sneaking around Severus; now he could give him full access to knowledge of his doings, and he didn't mind, because he did trust the man.

"How much is this?" Harry asked, hoping it would be within his range of expenses.

Eithre grimaced, and set the crystal back up on the shelf. "Who is this for?" she asked, moving back to her counter. Harry followed.

"How did you know it was for someone?"

"You're carrying bags, and you don't seem like the type to shop much for yourself."

"Oh," Harry said, glancing down at the bags in his hands. She really was insightful. "It's umm- it's for my father."

"An interesting thing for a boy to give his father," she said quietly, raising an eyebrow.

Harry nodded. "I want him to know that I trust him."

The woman nodded, and pointed to the shelf. "I'm linked to my mother, through that. She owns this store, I just work here during the day. She's rather taken with all this," she said, waving around at the store.

"You're not?" Harry asked, looking her over.

Eithre stared at him a bit funnily for a moment, probably wondering why he was sizing her up as he said that. Then she laughed, looking down at her clothes. "This?" she asked, lifting the fabric between two long, dark nails. "My mother insists that no one wants to buy from a shopkeeper who doesn't look knowledgeable. I tell her that looking mad and outdated doesn't equate eruditeness, but she disagrees."

Harry laughed, thinking that this woman's personality didn't match the visage. He then realized she had skirted around his question of price. "You didn't answer my question, though."

"When did you find out you had a father?"

Harry frowned, wondering how she could possibly know to ask that. She tipped her head to the side and motioned to his forehead. "According to legend, your father was killed by You-Know-Who, and I can't remember hearing you had been adopted."

"Oh," Harry said, looking around to see if McGonagall was nearby. She was inspecting something that resembled a kettle a few isles away. He expected that if she knew he'd let such a thing slip, he'd be reprimanded. "August," he answered.

She nodded. "The lowest I can go is ninety galleons, because I can see that this means a lot to you."

"How much is it normally?" Harry asked, scrunching up his face.

"Do you want it for ninety, or do you not?" Eithre asked, looking at him determinedly.

"I-"

Harry didn't know. It seemed an awful lot to pay… but if…

"I'll be right back," Harry said, turning and heading in the opposite direction.

He reached McGonagall shortly, who was onto inspecting the next item on the shelf.

"I have a favor to ask of you," Harry said, hoping she would acquiesce.

"And what's that, Potter?" McGonagall asked, straightening and turning to him.

"Let me buy Severus' present with my own money," Harry said, hoping it didn't sound too much like a demand.

"He said you might do this," McGonagall muttered, shaking her head. "Potter, I am on strict orders from your father not to let you spend any of your own money, is that quite clear? Now, I personally think you ought to be grateful that Severus is willing to provide for you, instead of arguing the point. And do not think for a moment that Severus cannot afford to do this-"

"It just doesn't seem to me that a teacher's salary can-"

"Careful what you say, Potter, for I live on a teacher's salary as well. Severus spends most of his time at Hogwarts, where all of his food and living is provided. He rarely ventures out, and when he does, he receives money from the Headmaster to purchase the supplies for his classes. Aside from that, the man really spends very little money. Do not worry your little head, Potter. Severus is well off… though, I would prefer if you did not tell him you heard such from me."

"I found something I want to get him, but the lowest the shopkeeper said she can go is ninety galleons," Harry said desperately. "And I still have shopping to do."

"Potter, that is well within the price range," McGonagall said, smiling and placing a hand on his shoulder, steering him towards the counter.

After finishing at that shop, Harry made quick stops at both Zonko's and Honeydukes. For Ron, he got a quill that advertised having the ability to do one's homework. He hadn't seen anything else at Zonko's that looked interesting, so he had moved onto the candy store. For Hermione, he purchased an entire bag of sugar quills, thinking fondly of her habit of nibbling on her quills as she worked. For Ginny, he purchased a large bag of chocolates; he wasn't sure why, but they seemed appropriate for her. He debated whether or not to buy Ron anything here, as he'd already purchased the quill. He resolved to buy Ron a few packs of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, thinking it would be something to occupy him during Quidditch practice.

"Do we have a bit more time left?" Harry asked as they stepped out of Honeydukes, ignoring the way she was looking disapprovingly at the bags of candy in his hands.

"A bit, yes," she said, looking back at the castle. Was that a look of longing in her eyes? "Why do you ask?"

"There's a shop down there I wanted to visit," Harry said.

Little did he know, he would end up finding his favorite gift of all in the book section of that muggle imitation gift shop. He went back to the castle that evening feeling very satisfied indeed.

xxx

Treading through the halls after McGonagall, Harry wondered when he was going to be dismissed. He had tried to dismiss himself, back in the entrance hall, by thanking McGonagall for taking him to Hogsmeade, but it hadn't worked. She had continued walking while she answered him, which Harry didn't think was her way of saying, "You are free to go".

So, here he was, following McGonagall through halls that seemed to be leading to her office. She hadn't yet told him to stop following her, so he figured he was doing what she wanted…. that was how he figured out if he was doing something right or wrong these days. He waited to be yelled at.

His suspicions were correct; McGonagall arrived at the door to her office, and stepped back, holding it open for him. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, Potter, I was wondering if I might have a chat with you?"

Harry was a bit confused about which subject she might like to chat on, but he complied and walked into the office. Quidditch, perhaps? The house cup and his failure to earn the house points until the end of every year? Procrastination did seem like something she would lecture him on. Maybe she intended to discuss-

"Professor Snape," McGonagall said in what would be a conversational tone, if it were not for the arched eyebrow on her lined face. She sat down at her desk as she continued. "You and he have been… getting along?"

Harry nodded, eyeing her with a look of bewilderment on his face.

McGonagall looked disgruntled that he had not elaborated. "He is… treating you well?"

Harry nodded again, his expression unchanging.

"Are you happy?" McGonagall asked, more insistently now.

Harry nodded again, and one of her worn, fisted hands pounded onto her desk.

"For goodness sake, Potter, say something," she said in frustration, drumming her fingers impatiently on her desktop.

Harry shrugged. "I like talking to him. He takes care of me, I guess, in a way… he seems to care. I mean, he doesn't actually come out and say it that often, but I can tell- like when he yells at me to do my homework, or educates me about random teas so I'll be educated about something other than magic… yeah. It's nice to have someone who'll do that."

Now it was McGonagall's turn to look bewildered. "You… you enjoy it when he yells at you?"

Harry laughed. "Well, he doesn't usually yell… not all the time. And he doesn't mean it to sound harsh. It's just his way of communicating."

McGonagall looked at him oddly for a moment, and then shook her head as though to clear her thoughts. "I must say, Potter, you have certainly grown since you first arrived here. I still remember when you burst into my office, proclaiming wildly that Professor Snape was going to steal the Philosopher's Stone." McGonagall gave a little chuckle at the thought, before proceeding. "You are prepared to spend the entirety of the Holiday with him, though?"

Why did people seem so perplexed by this notion? Yes, he was going to spend the Holiday with Severus. The man was his father, after all, and this is what fathers and sons did… right?

"Is there something abnormal about that?" Harry questioned.

McGonagall shook her head, and said comfortingly, "I've no intention to make you doubt your relationship with your father, Potter. If I did, he would undoubtedly be down here hollering at me in an instant- it's surprising, how protective he is over you, and how much he cares for your opinion. I've never seen him act that way before. I simply wanted to hear it from your point of view; Severus has been known to be quite talented at trading one visage for anther, in order to suit his purpose. I had to make sure."

Harry felt strangely touched by this sentiment; he had rarely had the feeling that McGonagall watched over him. She wasn't a very emotional person, and rarely betrayed any feelings of affection for individual students… of course, she had given him that broom in first year, and had helped him with his O.W.L. work, and had… fine. So she did show that she cared; was Harry simply blind to any shows of concern? He never seemed to notice them unless he was looking for them.

"Well, yeah, we get along, if that's what you wanted to know," Harry said.

"How have your friends reacted to this?"

Harry was a bit taken aback by this question. Who asked that? How did his friends react? What was this? An interrogation?

"Well," Harry started uneasily, shifting in his seat, "Hermione and Ginny have both been very supportive."

"And Mr. Weasley?"

"Not so much," Harry admitted. "He makes a lot of little… remarks, about Sev- my father- and… I don't know."

"Have you told him how you feel about that?"

"I finally told him to shut up today," Harry said, quirking his lips a little.

"That might not be a forward enough message for Mr. Weasley," McGonagall told him, raising her eyebrows. That seemed to be all she was going to say on the matter, as she rose from her desk to pat Harry on the shoulder. "I'm glad things are going well for you. I won't keep you any longer- but if things get difficult with Severus, or anything happens over the Holiday, you may feel free to write me, and I will give him what-for. Understood?"

Harry resisted the urge to laugh, as he knew she was serious. "Yes, thank you, Professor."

"You're quite welcome, Potter. Now I suggest you head back to your common room."

Harry did as she asked, wondering as he walked back to Gryffindor why it was that she always seemed to want to send him there.

xxx

Apparently, Harry only arrived at the common room to be sent back out again.

He first hid his bags in the trunk up in his dorm, securing it with a locking spell. Tired, but not ready to go to bed, he then went back down to the common room, where groups of Gryffindors were gathered around the room. He found Ron, Seamus, and Ginny and went over to them, flopping down in one of the empty seats near Ginny.

"Hermione was looking for you earlier," Ron said, not looking up from his game of exploding snap as Harry sat down.

"Oh?" Harry asked, frowning as he looked at Ron's odds of winning. "Why's that?"

Ron looked up, apparently thinking for a moment, and then shrugged. "No clue."

Ginny rolled her eyes and said to Harry, "She and Snape are working on that potion again. They wanted you to join them when you got back."

Harry stared at her for a moment, then groaned loudly and flopped back. "I am tired," he complained. "And I need a bath, and I'm hungry, and I apparently missed dinner in the Great Hall. The last thing I want to do is go down there to make this potion."

"You're lucky Hermione's not here, mate, or you'd get a earful," Ron said, laughing a bit.

Ginny glared at her brother. "Well, I'm here, so he's just as bad off, isn't he Ron?" She turned to Harry. "Your father and best friend are working around the clock to make a potion that is supposed to help _you_. The least you can do is go down there and help."

Harry quickly rose, thinking he was getting off much more easily than he might have with Hermione. He figured the best way to keep it that way was to agree and leave for Severus' dungeons. He and Ron exchanged sympathetic glances as he turned to leave, their earlier fight forgotten, but not finished.

Harry had been down to the dungeons a number of times, so it hardly felt like any time at all, getting down there. The door to Severus' office was closed, but Harry had a hunch that he'd already charmed them to recognize his touch, as they had discussed. Hoping against hope he wouldn't be stunned, Harry reached out and grasped the door handle. To his relief, no spells repelled him or sliced him in two. He smiled at the thought that Severus might actually do something like that; he found it somewhat amusing.

There was a note written for him on a small end table near the office door. Severus must have known he would come this way.

_Harry,_

_I've left the door to my private quarters open for you. We will be in the potions classroom, just down the hall from my office. Do not come down there until you have eaten what I left on a plate for you_ _on my table. It is charmed to be kept warm, so you shan't need to heat it. You may also make yourself a cup of tea, as I don't keep pumpkin juice. Burn this note in the fireplace when you're through. _

With relief, Harry noticed that the note wasn't signed. He was trying to become accustomed to calling Severus his father, but seeing the word "dad" in black and white… it would have been too daunting.

Harry looked back down at the note, and grinned, for two reasons. One, Severus had thought to leave him some dinner, as he had spent too long shopping. It was really very kind of him (and also proved that he kept an eye open for him at dinner, which didn't feel awful, either). Two, Severus was so paranoid about someone seeing a note which denoted that he was capable of kindness, that he actually asked Harry to burn it when he was through.

Harry folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

As promised, the dinner Severus left out for Harry was still warm, and extremely fulfilling after a long day of shopping. On his plate was a large helping of Shepherds pie, with three large, golden biscuits on the side. Harry used them to soak up the gravy that ran off his food, and found himself quite enjoying the quiet as he sat with a nice cup of tea. Part of him felt guilty that he hadn't hurried to eat and gone down to the Potions classroom… but then, Severus hadn't mentioned anything about hurrying. He was rarely of any help to them, anyways.

When Harry finished his cup of tea, he reluctantly cleaned up his place and started off towards the Potions classroom. He was tempted to fall asleep on Severus' couch, instead; he wouldn't get yelled at until morning, at any cost, and he could avoid doing work. However, a sense of duty and a disinclination to anger Severus put him off that idea.

The door to the classroom was cracked open, which Harry took as a sign that he was to let himself in. A large cauldron was bubbling across the room, and Severus was leaning against one of the tables, addressing Hermione formally. She looked like she was itching to write down his words, but sadly had no quills or parchment handy.

"So then we won't need to do anything during the week of the Holiday?" Hermione was asking.

Severus shook his head. "It will need to be checked, every once in a while, of course, but I can accomplish that when I return here from time to time. Still, nothing can be done until we have Draco's blood. That will be the next step, followed by the addition of Voldemort's flesh, if Draco can manage it."

"I certainly hope he can," Hermione said softly, looking worriedly at the ground.

Harry waited to see that they were done speaking, and then cleared his throat to announce his arrival. Both Severus and Hermione looked over at him; Hermione flashed him a great smile, and Severus gave him a nod.

"Did you find my missive?" Severus asked, pushing off of the table and walking towards Harry.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, thanks for keeping dinner for me."

"Well, you're hardly in any shape to be skipping meals," Severus said brusquely, scrutinizing Harry's thin frame. Harry longed to retort that the same might be said about Severus, but thought that in front of Hermione, that might be pushing it. "I trust all went well in Hogsmeade?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, grinning. "Thanks for letting me go."

Another nod. Severus cleared his throat and stalked over to his desk, sifting through the pile of papers there. Harry decided he liked Severus better when no one else was around; he talked more. Funny; at one time, Harry would have thought that the best way to have Snape around was silently.

"I'm glad you're here," Hermione said as she reached Harry. "I hate walking back to the common room after hours by myself, and I didn't really want to ask Professor Snape to accompany me."

"I'm sorry if he's been awful to you," Harry said, glancing over at Severus, who was now angrily tossing papers to the side, apparently looking for something. He stifled a laugh.

"Oh, it's not that," Hermione said. "He's actually been rather tolerable; good company for a working environment, even. I just didn't want to seem like some sort of scared little girl to him, if you understand."

"Miss Granger, have you seen my notes on the Curatio Vulni potion?" Severus snapped from across the room, now using his wand to file all the papers he'd just thrown off his desk in frustration.

Hermione turned red, and then ran back to her bag. "Yes, I'm so sorry sir, I was copying down information on the Alcruor Prosapia earlier, and I accidentally started copying those, and then I thought that since I'd already written half of them I might as well write the rest… and I accidentally shoved them in my bag… oh, here you go."

_At least she keeps her papers neat_, Severus thought to himself while rolling his eyes and snatching his notes from her.

"What's the Alcruor Prosapia?" Harry asked, looking confusedly between the both of them.

"It's the potion we've been working on, Harry," Hermione answered, clearly trying to hide here embarrassment as she hastily shoved her folder back into her bag.

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather stupid. "I don't remember hearing a name."

"We don't usually use the name, Harry, because if others were to overhear what we were doing, the results could be disastrous." Severus finished putting his papers away, and then turned to Harry. "You would do well to remember that; no one can find out about what we are doing."

Harry decided to leave out the fact that Ron and Ginny already knew. He would be sure to mention this to them.

"Miss Granger, Harry will meet you outside in a moment," Severus said stiffly, obviously still a bit irritated that she had taken his notes. "I need to have a word with him."

Harry's first thought was: _It wasn't me._ He thought to say that, however, would seem suspicious, so he stayed quiet.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione mumbled, walking out with her head hung so that her bushy brown hair would hide the slowly fading red tinge of her cheeks.

Severus watched Hermione disappear into the corridor, and then smirked. "Serves the girl right for taking my notes; she can stand in the dark corridor for a few minutes. I wanted to tell you that we will be leaving on Friday, after I see my students onto the train. We will need to return periodically during the week; I still have some students to look after. However, we may be able to spend a fair amount of time at the house."

"I don't mind returning," Harry said truthfully. He had spent every Christmas here; it would feel odd if he didn't even see the place over the holiday.

Severus nodded his approval. "You may not need to pack much, since we will be returning, but I would prefer it if you were more prepared than not."

"Yeah, no problem," Harry said. "I will be."

"Good. You should be on your way now. I think Miss Granger is getting anxious."

Severus pointed to the crack of the door, through which Harry could see Hermione's profile. She was biting her lip anxiously and looking around; she even jumped at one point. Severus refrained from laughing, but he was unable to hide the smirk on his face.

"You are not a nice man," Harry said, shaking his head and heading for the door.

Severus shrugged, and said, "Worse has been said."

Harry bid his father goodnight, and stepped out into the corridor with Hermione. She breathed an audible sigh of relief, and he held back a snort of amusement.

"I didn't think you were afraid of the dark, Hermione," he said quietly, looking down to hide his smile.

"I'm not afraid of the dark," she said crossly, sending him a dark look. "Just... it's just downright creepy down here, you know that?"

"It's not as though you've never been down here before," Harry countered, looking at her from the side. She shrugged, and rubbed the back of her neck.

"I know... but he spent the entire time tonight talking about the rising resistance to the light side, and how we need to be constantly wary. Then he goes on about how Hogwarts isn't even quite safe anymore... and sends me to stand out in a dark corridor and wait by myself! And on top of that, I'm positive the bloody baron was down that hall, making those terrifying noises..."

Harry was silent, and Hermione looked at him suspiciously. Slowly, it came to her.

"He did that on purpose, didn't he?"

"Yep," Harry replied, nodding and allowing himself a chuckle.

Hermione growled and muttered something under her breath. For the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts, Harry believed he had just heard Hermione call a teacher a foul name. In that moment, he couldn't have been more thrilled with the way Severus' mind worked. He looked over at Hermione. This was so much more entertaining than a Quidditch game.

**xxx End Chapter 34 xxx **

AN:

I have to thank my betas, **Cithara**, **Rlmess,** and **MakalaniAstral**.

I also have to thank those that review- you guys give me so much inspiration. I can't tell you how much it means when I go to my inbox and find your comments. My motivation starts with you, so you can thank yourselves if you are enjoying the story.

I love you all platonically )


	35. The House

Chapter 35

The House

xxx

Severus ran a smoothing hand over the duvet atop the bed that would soon belong to his son. Everything appeared in order; Dumbledore and he had been inspecting the house since the wee hours of the morning, and Severus had been coming all week. Two boggarts had been expelled from a closet and a wardrobe, the particularly malicious portraits stored, the others hung out of site, and the house elves briefed on what would be expected when he and Harry took up residency there. It had been… tiring, and he didn't particularly enjoy the reminiscent feelings that seemed to pursue him. He let out a deep sigh and sat down, closing his eyes as a defence against the nostalgia that threatened to envelope him again.

It was almost haunting, revisiting this home. He'd left soon after his parting with Lily, and hadn't returned except to collect his things when needed. She had done most of the decorating on this house, and travelling from room to room, closely inspecting everything she had, at one time, been responsible for was difficult. However, he had attempted to be strong. He'd changed nothing aside from the location of the Master bedroom, asking Dumbledore to move it to the other side of the house. He hadn't slept alone in that room since she'd left; he preferred not to try now.

The thoughts wouldn't stop flooding him. Were he a more rational man, he might not be in this situation. Had he not scared her off, would he still be sitting alone in this room, thinking longingly of her? Severus rested his head against the bedpost, more embittered and worn than angered by these thoughts. He was too tired to care anymore; he could only regret his actions. He couldn't change them.

"There's nothing to be done."

Severus' eyes snapped open and flew to the door, scrutinizing the careworn face of the Headmaster. Had he somehow known what Severus was thinking?

"That room can't be saved, it's been neglected for too long," Dumbledore continued, looking regretfully down the hall. "I doubt either one of you would enjoy it much, at any cost, unless you planned to take him that deep into the study of white magic. I have a room with similar properties which may be used, when the time comes."

Oh. Severus longed to let out a sigh of relief. Dumbledore had been talking about the room down the hall. "Lily loved it; I thought Harry might have liked to see it," Severus commented, rising from the bed and re-smoothing the place where he'd sat.

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully, and was quiet for a long while. Severus said nothing more; experience had taught him that the pensive expression currently in place on the Headmaster's face normally meant that he was attempting to sum up his thoughts in a delicate manner. Both men stood; Dumbledore resting a hand on the pine wardrobe, and Severus waiting patiently for his words.

"Severus," Dumbledore finally said resignedly, inhaling deeply and looking grim. His age was beginning to show these days in his actions, words, and most of all, his physical mannerisms. "You cannot bring the boy's mother back to him."

That hadn't been what Severus had expected. He'd expected some sort of wise advice on how to make Harry's holidays more enjoyable, or even on how to deal with his own grief. He knew that Dumbledore could see it still plagued him. "I'm not trying to bring her back to him-" Severus disagreed in what he thought was a rational tone, but Dumbledore raised his weathered hand, signalling Severus to quiet.

"You are attempting to make reparations for the fact that she is no longer here," Dumbledore explained heavily, gazing at the younger wizard with a disenchanted gleam in his eye. Sorrow, sympathy- Severus knew that expression well in the man. "He doesn't blame you. Stop blaming yourself. It is no crime to share your memories of her with him, but I have seen in your eyes the regret you feel at bringing him to this home where she no longer dwells. Harry has come to terms with the fact that she has moved on; it's time you do as well, or you will reopen old wounds which have already healed for the boy. To keep this house as a shrine to your former wife only serves to prolong the feeling of loss, for you cannot bring her back. Bring him here, treat it as _your _home- yours and Harry's, not yours and Lily's. Lily left here long ago."

That familiar feeling of distress was rising, unnerving Severus from deep within. How dare the man suggest something so… accurate? Even Severus had not realized his motives in keeping everything the same, yet the Headmaster had taken it upon himself to deconstruct and correctly identify his intentions.

"I only wanted to preserve that room," Severus argued, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not trying to bring her back; do not think me so foolish."

"Severus, every change I have suggested today you have refused on the grounds that Lily had wanted it that way."

"It feels disrespectful to change everything she did simply because she is deceased," said Severus, crossing his arms. "It has nothing to do with grief."

"I would disagree, but I can't force you to see my point. I can only plead with you not to force Harry to grieve as well; the boy deserves to spend time with you, not thinking of his mother."

Dumbledore didn't stay to watch his words sink in, for Severus' defiant glare at the floor was a telltale sign that he would not consider them until Dumbledore had left. The older man turned and exited, looking back only once. Severus didn't move; he only stood there, piecing through what had been said to him.

xxx

Harry tried not to think of Friday as Dooms Day, but as Wednesday came to a close, Thursday dawned, and Friday drew ever closer, he couldn't help but feel any other way. He didn't know what he was getting himself into. He'd be spending an entire two weeks with Severus Snape. Irritable, territorial, anal-retentive, hot-tempered Severus Snape. The man might as well stamp one of the potions labels onto his forehead: _Warning: Highly volatile and corrosive substance. Keep away from flame and wear protective gloves when handling. _

On a good day, for a short amount of time, Severus was tolerant enough to make Harry's time spent with him enjoyable. However, Severus' degree of hospitality usually depended on several variables. One, Harry had to comply with his requests and orders with barely any argument. Two, Harry had to keep his hands off anything belonging to Severus unless given permission to do otherwise. Three, Severus had to be in a pleasant mood to start with.

These conditions had been relatively easy to abide by during the few hour intervals the two spent in each other's company. Harry was careful to keep Severus' temper at an all time low, no matter what sacrifices he had to make. However, Harry wasn't sure he would be able to do so during the entirety of his stay at Severus' home.

Harry engrossed himself in pushing his eggs around his breakfast plate; he hadn't much of an appetite. What if Severus decided he was far too annoying, and sent him to the Weasleys' home for the rest of the Holiday? Oh, that would just be… mortifying, especially since Ron had no doubt informed them all of his relationship to Severus.

Rolling his eyes to himself out of annoyance at his own anxiety, Harry watched Ginny and Ron bicker for a few minutes.

"Ron," he broke in, as soon as one of them stopped to take a breath. "Do you know where Hermione is?"

"No, sorry," Ron said distractedly. "But you'll see her in Potions, won't you? Can't you talk to her then?"

Harry nodded silently.

"I think she said something about finishing her Arithmancy homework," Ginny offered helpfully. For a moment, Harry looked at her thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps she could help him… but as she went back to her argument with Ron, he could see that she was far too wrapped up in her fervent debate to give him any advice.

He looked across the table to Hermione's empty spot, and gave his sausage a stab.

xxx

It was risky, talking in N.E.W.T. Potions. It was especially risky when the subject Harry most wanted to discuss was Severus. It was riskier still to do so after Severus was already having a minor conniption over a cauldron melting, affected by the same student who'd already done so twice… that week.

Harry didn't know if it was worth it to take his chances.

"Since you seem unable to complete any of these potions without initiating liquescence, explosion, or any other form of utter devastation," Severus hissed angrily to the class, flattening his palms on his desk and leering at them menacingly. "We will abandon all attempts of producing this potion, and you will each write five-hundred words on _what not to do_ when endeavouring to complete the incombustible potion. How you idiots can manage to melt cauldrons while making potions that are supposed to be _inflammable _is beyond even me!"

Hermione raised her hand, and Severus' head snapped so quickly in her direction that the sickening cracking sound of his neck could be heard across the room. "Put that hand down, you stupid girl! What question could you possibly have at this very moment?"

Harry's jaw almost dropped. Hermione quickly lowered her hand, looking extremely hurt and enormously embarrassed. Her cheeks flushed, and she said tearfully said, "I just wanted to know when it was due."

"End of class," Severus barked, taking in the rest of the class with his cold, dark eyes. "Well? You have one hour; write!"

Along with the rest of the class, Harry and Hermione quickly took out their parchment and quills. Glancing sideways at her tearful face, Harry resolved to wait a bit before asking Hermione about Severus. They quickly got to their essays; Severus was sitting at the front of the classroom, glaring around at each of his students. His gaze rested on Harry for an extra few seconds. He seemed to be warning him not to incur his wrath.

To mask his own infuriation on Hermione's behalf, Harry quickly fixed his vision on the paper in front of him, ignoring the way Severus' eyes continued to linger on him. He hadn't seen Severus explode like this in a long time; he hadn't exactly been nice, in class, but he had been keeping his temper under control.

_So_, Harry thought to himself, _his temper hasn't changed. This is what I'm in for if I seriously piss him off during these next few weeks… lovely._

The only sounds for a long time were the scratching of quills and the occasional hiccup from Hermione, who was still trying to contain her emotions. Harry felt more than a touch of sympathy for her; she had probably expected better treatment, after the time she'd been spending with Severus and Harry on the potion. To be perfectly honest, Harry had expected the same- maybe not for himself, because their secret was being kept quiet, but for Hermione, at least. She hadn't done anything to deserve to be treated like that.

Harry could feel Severus' eyes burning into his skull. He didn't know why the man was gazing in his direction so frequently. Weren't there more interesting things in the class to watch? Or did he know that Harry was angry? Or was he angry with Harry?

Oh, Harry realized as his quill snapped in half. He'd noticed the furious intensity of Harry's writing- that had been the giveaway.

xxx

This holiday wasn't going to be easy. The boy was obviously, though unsurprisingly, still having problems controlling his temper. Severus was sorely tempted to point this out when Harry's quill snapped, sending the pointed end flying off the table to hit the poor, unsuspecting boy in front of him. If he were allowed to sit and fume, eventually there would be an outburst… from either Harry or Severus. There was a good possibility that it would come from both; it was certain that even if Severus wasn't the one to initiate the quarrel, he would be reacting to, and therefore participating in the explosion.

"Potter," Severus said, glaring at the half of a quill now lying on the floor. "I do believe you've dropped something."

"Thank you, sir, I hadn't realized," Harry said flatly, narrowing his eyes and rising to retrieve it.

"I don't much appreciate your tone," Severus drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. The boy didn't get it. He was actually talking back; how could he not realize that was a warning, and just stay quiet? "Ten points from Gryffindor; and I suggest you watch that temper to avoid losing more."

Harry almost retorted that Severus' temper was no better, but bit his tongue. He knew that Severus would not be taking points if not to keep up appearances; nevertheless, he was irritated. Couldn't he have looked the other way and ignored the breaking of his quill? He slanted his gaze towards Hermione, who gave him a barely noticeable shake of the head. His brows lowered; what was that supposed to mean?

Harry raised his eyes to meet Severus. The man's narrowed eyes held an abstruse glint, his expression indeterminable, yet vaguely significant. Harry waited for some betrayal of what he was thinking, but none came. He shook his head and refocused his eyes on his work.

Severus watched Harry for a moment as his head dropped again, and then looked away, peering around at the rest of the class. The boy could be shockingly dull-witted, at times. Even Miss Granger, despite her overly sensitive state, had noticed his subtle hinting that Harry needed to rein his anger. It shouldn't have been difficult to figure out that he was no longer playacting; he had said plainly, "watch that temper," and the boy still looked confused about what Severus wanted him to do.

Severus kept his stern gaze wandering around the room for awhile, watching for any student who dared to stop his or her work. He was still deciding whether or not to collect the essays at the end of class; part of him thought that perhaps it would be a worse punishment to make them slave away on their papers for the next hour, and then simply give them all zeroes for the day. Smirking at that thought, he glanced over at Harry's side of the room, the timing perfect to see the boy try discreetly to pull a blank sheet of parchment out from underneath his essay.

Severus' eyes flickered to the ceiling in annoyance; the boy was going to pass a note. He recognized this manoeuvre well. It seemed to have been a favourite to the few students who had been stupid enough to attempt this atrocity right under the Potions Master's overlarge nose… And it had been a very fair few, for it was a little known fact that he considered it to be one of the utmost signs of disrespect (and Severus Snape did not tolerate disrespect well). The only pupils who had been privileged enough to have him overlook their misbehaviour belonged to Slytherin; all other houses beware.

Now, the question was, would he tolerate the act from his son? He knew he had already committed an unforgivable sin in his son's eyes; he'd snapped at and insulted one of his closest friends. Severus had faith that it would take little more than an apology to be forgiven this. However, to attack the boy almost immediately afterwards showed poor judgment; it would take much more to win Harry's true forgiveness after greatly upsetting him twice in the same class period. Severus had hoped for relatively little conflict this Holiday; perhaps this was a time to pick his battles.

Harry wrote something on the piece of parchment and slid it over to Hermione. Through his peripheral vision, Severus watched her face light up with alarm at the notion of note-passing, and glance ever so obviously from the parchment to Severus, checking to see that he wasn't looking. Seemingly assured that he hadn't seen, she glanced at Harry and back down at the note, moving it over the top of her own essay. She scribbled a note under Harry's scrawl and quickly slid it back to him, glancing at Severus again and going back to work.

Severus crossed his arms and looked resolutely the other way; he wouldn't let anyone know he had noticed this little misdemeanour, but he did intend to have a very stern talk with Harry and his little friend at the end of class. He might be more rational than his son had ever expected, but that didn't mean he was any less the wise.

xxx

Good; so far, he hadn't seen. Harry carefully watched his father's face as he received the parchment back from Hermione, who looked positively sickened by the fact that they were passing notes instead of doing their homework. Still, he needed desperately to talk to her, and time was running out. Tonight they would all be packing, and tomorrow afternoon, everyone would be boarding the train. He couldn't take the risk; he needed someone to confess his fears to now, before it was too late. He looked down at the parchment, and pretended to write as he read what she had written.

_Harry, everything is going to be fine! _

Some advice.

_And if it's not?_

He glanced at Severus, and slid it over.

_If it's not, then you already have my promise that we will be there to relieve you at your very word. It's not as if he's going to mistreat you. What is the worst that can happen?_

This, to Harry, seemed to be a very silly question, seeing as how the worst always _did _happen to him.

_What if he gets so fed up with me that he throws me out? _

_That's not going to happen. _

_How do you know?_

_Because he has shown astounding patience with you already. What makes you think that being beyond the confines of the castle will change that? If anything, he will be less stressed and more willing to open up to you. _

Ah. Well, she had a good point, Harry had to give it to her there.

_Do you really think so? _

This seemed unnecessary, yes, but Harry needed to hear more explanation. He supposed he was going to get one, as he watched Hermione scribble furiously over the note, writing what looked to him like the beginnings of a short novel.

_I state emphatically, yes. You and he get along well, from what I've seen- I think this holiday will be brilliant… and if not, then you can rest assured that you're not alone. Let's be honest- what you're really getting at is that you are worried you will somehow mess up and push him away. I promise you, that won't happen. You needn't be so guarded; he's not going to dislike you simply because you say the wrong thing at the wrong time. From what you've told me, you two have developed an understanding of sorts. He's not so irrational that he will disregard that at the drop of a hat. _

Harry read what she had written twice, and then finally listened to the little voice in the back of his head that told him he needed to get his essay finished. He mouthed a thank you to Hermione and bent over his paper.

Hermione was right, in a sense. Of course, Harry's fears weren't quite quelled, but he was able to reason past them. Hermione hadn't told him anything he hadn't already known; she'd just brought it to his attention.

If anyone understood insecurities and avoidance, it was Severus. Of that, Harry had no doubt… but could it be concluded that he would be an authority on how to treat someone with the same issues?

xxx

Many of the students had come to find that when given the proper motivation, it was quite easy to write such an essay in one hour. Each turned it in at the end of the class, and hurried away from Severus' desk as quickly as possible; the expression on his face was anything but friendly as he received each student's work.

Somewhere at the end of the line, Harry and Hermione waited patiently to hand in their own essays. Neither could determine why his narrowed eyes flickered angrily over them several times, nor why his glare became especially hard once they'd arrived in front of him.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly, jerkily tugging their work from their hands and curling his lip as he glanced over them. "You may each take a seat on the opposite sides of the room. I should like a few words with you."

Hermione's wide-eyed expression as she looked helplessly at Harry clearly said, _I knew note passing was a bad idea. _

Harry shrugged apologetically, and glumly took his seat. He wasn't exactly surprised; he had been ignoring all his conscience's warnings in hope that they were wrong. Usually, such ignorance got him into trouble; apparently, this time was no exception.

Harry and Hermione both waited anxiously as Severus filed the essays away for grading; he appeared to be taking a purposely extended amount of time to do so. He finished what he was doing and turned around slowly, eyeing them for a moment before descending fluidly down the few steps of his platform and leaning on one of the tables.

"Tell me," he said slowly, looking between the two of them and holding his gaze on each for several seconds. "Would you say it is acceptable to use the working time that your authorities give you for anything other than work? Miss Granger? You seem to have an answer to every question, why don't you go first?"

"No, sir," she replied, casting her gaze downward and looking ashamed.

"And you, Mr. Potter?" Severus asked, turning his head towards Harry and lifting his eyebrows in false interest.

"No, sir," Harry replied, but unlike Hermione, held the Potions Master's gaze.

He would attempt to show respect without cowering in fear; Severus was grateful for this, as he would not have appreciated being feared by the boy… that was not his intention. Granted, he enjoyed provoking a bit of anxiety, but he did not need or want his own son to be blatantly scared of him.

"Then I demand to know why you felt my class provided the perfect opportunity to pass notes," Severus said in a terrifyingly calm manner, crossing his arms and waiting expressionlessly for their answers. When he received none, he continued. "Is my class such a waste of your time that you feel the need to entertain yourselves? Perhaps you consider yourselves above the assignments I have given you."

"No, please, sir-" Hermione interjected to no avail.

"Silence!" Severus boomed, turning his fierce gaze on her.

Harry thought to himself that Severus was being a bit irrational; hadn't he just asked a question? Hermione had only been trying to answer.

"There _is no explanation_ for such a blatant mockery of the time I put into teaching you little cretins. Your behaviour today was unacceptable, and your blatant lack of remorse is more pitiful still."

"Listen, Severus-"

"In this classroom, under these circumstances, I am Professor to you, Mr. Potter," Severus said coldly. "You might try respecting that. Both of you have earned zeroes on the day's work." Severus turned his back on them and headed for his desk. "You are dismissed."

Hermione's eyes were wide and round as she looked at Harry pleadingly. Harry's face was stuck in a permanent grimace; Severus hadn't used this tone with him in a very long time, and his words had been awful. He felt as though he'd been struck, and as much as he wished to count this as a violation on Severus' part, he realized that he had been taking advantage of their relationship. He had taken for granted that he would have Severus' favour; what he hadn't taken into account was that he was somehow showing Severus that he had lost respect for him. While Severus had allowed him to spar verbally with him from time to time, and had allowed him many freedoms and informalities, he was still Harry's teacher. He had expected Harry to understand that, not to try and take advantage of the situation. Harry realized now he wasn't on the same level as Severus- he was still the pupil, the son, the minor.

"Professor," Harry said quietly, causing Severus to still and stiffly turn his neck. "It was my fault. If you're going to give a zero to someone, give it to me."

"I watched Miss Granger take the note, Mr. Potter. She is every bit as guilty as you are."

"Sir, I'm sorry- I just… I needed to…"

"What was so important that it could not wait until later, Potter?" Severus snapped, rather irritated that the boy kept trying to make excuses. When would he take responsibility for his actions?

Harry remained silent and looked at the floor. He was boxed in, and could see no way out.

"Perhaps," Severus said slowly, stepping forward, "You would like to trade punishments?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked cautiously, frowning.

"Hand over the note, and I will grant you credit on your essays," Severus said, smirking and crossing his arms. He knew what he was doing. He would not be accused of forcing his way into Harry's life, or prying, but he did not like to be left in the dark.

Hermione bit her lip and looked to Harry, realizing that they were in a lose-lose situation. Harry returned her worried gaze and fought the urge to bite his own lip; if he showed Severus that note, he would be risking a lot of the trust that they had built up over time. However, he knew Hermione couldn't take the blow to her grade- she had the only outstanding in the class, and loss of credit would ruin that for her. He couldn't be so selfish as to ruin her grade when he had brought her into this mess.

Severus stepped forward and extended his hand, gesturing for Harry to hand over the note. "What will it be, Mr. Potter?"

Harry lowered his gaze defeatedly, an unpleasant churning feeling developing in his stomach. Taking one last look at Hermione's desperate expression, he reached into his bag and pulled out the parchment. He gazed at it for a moment, and then wordlessly handed it to Severus.

Severus' eyes roamed over the parchment for a moment, his features remaining stonily in place. Harry diverted his eyes from the older man, willing himself to look anywhere except at his face. He didn't want to see his reaction. He didn't care about the forewarning he might receive from any of his facial expressions; he couldn't bear it if he saw disappointment and betrayal in his father's normally cool black gaze.

"Miss Granger, please see yourself out," Severus said after several minutes. "I wish to speak privately with Harry."

Harry stole a glance at Hermione, who furrowed her brow worriedly and lifted her bag over her shoulder. As discreetly as possible, she gave Harry an understanding, grateful half smile as she stepped out the door.

Severus watched her leave, and turned back to Harry. The boy refused to hold eye contact with him. He moved down to Harry's desk and rested his tall form against it, staring with intensity at the boy in front of him.

He held up the parchment. Harry winced as he began to read his first statement out loud. "'I'm worried about the upcoming break, Hermione," Severus began quoting evenly, his voice neither harsh nor soft. "'My father and I get along well here, but he has such an awful temper that I'm not sure that will last once we leave the school grounds. Not to mention how finicky he is about his stuff. What do I do?'" Severus finished reading and lowered the parchment, looking at Harry with an almost wounded frown. "Is this really how you feel?"

Harry could not remember ever having felt as truly horrible as he did in this moment, nor could he recall ever having seen Severus look so betrayed. For several minutes, he could not say anything for fear that the clenching feeling that had developed in his chest would cease, and he would express his sorrow in other, less manly ways. He wanted to apologize profusely, but he doubted that would solve anything on either side. His fear would still be there, and Severus would still feel every bit as betrayed as he did now.

"It's not at all that I think you are undependable or… irrational, or anything. It's just… I can't explain it!" Harry looked up at Severus apologetically, frustrated by the refusal of his brain to form his feelings into words. "Maybe… I don't know. Even the nicest people get angry when I'm around… it's like I can't do anything right. Here at school, it's fine… but part of me thinks that's because you've only had to put up with me in small doses. What happens when you have to be around me all the time?"

Severus looked at Harry sceptically for a moment, wondering if he'd heard right. Was this really a time when the age-old line, "it's not you, it's me," was true? Did Harry really think he was the problem? Surely the boy could realize that Severus' temper was to blame for their past quarrels; even Severus had come to terms with this, and he was not a man who often admitted to being wrong.

"Harry," Severus said with difficulty, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder. He did not speak after that; he gazed at a spot over Harry's head, searching for words.

"The Dursleys were nice people until I came along. They always loved Dudley… maybe it's just because I'm unlovable. Maybe I really am… dark, or something, and I just… cause hate in people… Maybe the prophecy meant that I would be greater than Voldemort- maybe that's why he came to kill me. I caused my parents deaths, I caused Sirius's death… maybe those are just steps on the pathway to-"

"Or maybe you're just difficult," Severus interrupted him, tightening his grip on Harry's shoulder. "Congratulations, you've inherited my trademark quality."

"But-"

"First of all, you didn't cause anyone's death. Their deaths were the work of Voldemort and his Death Eaters, no one else. The Dursleys were vile and prejudiced and acted out on their hatred of magic; _it wasn't you_. I was consumed by a grudge and a pain that I should have let go of years ago… and you never proved my assumptions wrong because I never let you. You are not evil in any shape or form Harry, nor are you unlovable. If you want my honest opinion, you are stubborn, headstrong, and have a guilt complex the size of Great Britain." Severus paused, and softened his tone. "You also have a good heart, good intentions, and a penchant for saving people, even if they don't deserve it. These are not traits to be ashamed of."

"You make it sound like I'm perfect or something. I'm not perfect; I have a lot more faults than I think you realize."

"I will not abandon you," Severus said quietly.

Harry blinked, and said, "What?"

"I will not abandon you. Given your history, I cannot blame you for feeling that I will. Despite your shortcomings, you are my son, and nothing will make me send you away. You need to believe that."

"I-"

"Do you think I would lie to you about a thing like that?"

"No…"

"You need more assurance?"

"No- just- how do you know if you've never tried before?"

Severus quirked one side of his mouth. "Harry, you managed to force my feelings towards you from vehement hatred to… something quite resembling fondness… I do care for you, I hope you know that. I don't say it often, but I do. Do you understand how that change came about?"

Harry shrugged and shook his head a little. "No."

"You opened up. You let me see the real you; don't worry so much about the impression you are making."

"But you haven't seen me at my worst!"

"I could argue that."

Harry growled in frustration and dropped his head back, causing Severus to give a small laugh.

"Let me explain this way," Severus said, folding his arms. "I can tolerate that which I understand. I certainly understand difficult people; I understand bitterness, anger, irrationality, anger… I don't always react in the ideal way… but I do try to consider when I myself have calmed down. I'm sure we will have our disagreements, and it is doubtful that our arguments will be anywhere within the realm of minor… but we will resolve our problems, I have faith in that, and I will not become…" he lifted the note and sighed, quoting, "'Fed up' with you."

Harry nodded, looking down at the floor. He wasn't entirely convinced, but he felt reassured all the same.

"You should be leaving," Severus said after a moment, looking at the door. "Lunch is being served, and you seem to skip far too many meals."

"Yeah, well… so?"

Severus lifted an eyebrow and said, "I'm beginning to think that you enjoy being lectured."

Harry shrugged noncommittally. In reality, Severus was close to the truth. Though the lecturing could be a bit annoying, at times, he still appreciated that someone was genuinely concerned about him. He gathered his things and started towards the door.

Before exiting, Harry paused abruptly, turning and saying, "Sir?"

Looking up from his desk, Severus nodded silently to Harry, signalling him to continue.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, blushing slightly. He meant the apology for both the use of the title, and for the note, but did not say as much. "And… Thank you… Dad."

Severus' expression took on a new look of surprise; Harry cocked his head to the side, seemingly deciding how he liked the title. After a moment, he smiled slightly and nodded to himself. "Yeah- Thanks."

He continued nodding, and slipped out the door.

Severus closed his eyes in relief. He had not needed to prod the title out of him… and he'd not had to endure the tension that was likely to manifest in the room after its first few uses. Overall… he would call this meeting a success.

xxx

On Friday afternoon, Harry headed down to the platform with his friends to see them off. He listened to Ron and Ginny's excited chatter about seeing all their older brothers; they both seemed a bit lonely, Fred and George having left the school. Hermione talked unceasingly about visiting her new baby cousin, revealing a small soft spot for infants. And Harry… Harry just smiled. He was content to listen to their happy talk, their expectancies for the Holidays, their small complaints about the downfalls of seeing the family… whatever. He was just happy that, for once, he had somewhere to go.

There was little time for goodbyes, as they had taken their time getting down to the train, so Harry had to limit his time with each person.

"Harry," Hermione said warmly, the first to wrap her arms around his thin body. "I'll write you over the break, and hopefully I'll see you more than once. Mum and Dad want me to stay at the house for Boxing Day, but I'm going to see if they won't let me go. Remember, just send word if you need our company."

Harry nodded and gave his thanks, then turned to Ron. The two clasped hands briefly, and Ron smiled. Thankfully, he didn't say anything idiotic about Severus; he settled for a quick, "Good luck, mate. I'll be seeing you on Boxing Day."

"Okay, Ron," Harry said, smiling. He turned to Ginny, and was shocked to find himself in her embrace before he'd had a chance to say anything.

"I also hope I'll see you more than once, but in the case that we don't, I'll just say I'm looking forward to seeing you at the Burrow." She paused and pulled back, looking to be carefully choosing her words, and then said, "I'm glad for you, Harry, that you've got the Professor now. I think this will be a good Holiday for you." She smiled. "Happy Christmas!"

Harry nodded and gave her a genuinely grateful smile. "To you too, Ginny."

Once the three had departed, Harry left his spot on the platform and found McGonagall, whom he uncomfortably joined in watching the Gryffindors file onto the train. She gave him a knowing look, seemingly understanding that he was uncomfortable with the idea of walking up to his father in the midst of all the students… some knew of their relationship, but as far as he knew, few accepted it. His Slytherins wouldn't dare say a word, and most of them quite admired the man… but he knew of a few who would turn up their noses, or even throw a hex, at the sight of them standing together.

It was about fifteen minutes before the platform was completely clear of students and the train began to whistle. He stayed by McGonagall's side, watching as it pulled away. As it disappeared into the distance he turned to her to say something, but stopped short when she moved her eyes to something behind him and smiled.

"Are you ready to depart, Harry?" asked a deep voice from behind him. Harry grinned and turned around, nodding.

"Sure," he said, glancing up at the castle. "I'll just need to get my stuff from the Common Room."

Severus nodded and glanced at Minerva, who had an annoyingly delighted smile on her face. She was still as tight lipped and sharply featured as ever, but he hadn't seen her so pleased in… well, it came close to the expression she took on whenever Gryffindor won anything, but he had always viewed that more as smugness than anything.

"Well, I'll let you finish up here," Severus said, gesturing to McGonagall. "Meet me down in my office when you're finished."

Harry shook his head. "I'll walk back up to the castle with you, just one minute."

Looking pleased, Severus nodded and moved to the door, halting just outside it.

Harry exchanged a brief goodbye with Professor McGonagall, who reiterated the fact that he only need write her should he need anything. He thanked her and ran to join his father, who looked as though he were trying to mask his displeasure at having to wait so long.

"Sorry," Harry said a bit breathlessly as he reached Severus. "I tried to be quick."

Severus waved his hand dismissively, and then, apparently distracted by the state of Harry's hair, batted at the unruly strands sticking out on the top. "You are in need of a haircut," he said, half to himself, as he lifted one side of his nose into what Harry might call a thoughtful sneer.

"Oh, that's rich," Harry proclaimed, batting at Snape's own locks and laughing when the older man jumped back.

"Do _not_ touch my hair," Severus said, looking appalled that he would even attempt as much. Harry found this rather amusing, given the topic, but hid his smirk and looked away.

It did not take long for Harry to gather his things from the common room and head down to Severus' office. Severus greeted him with the half smile Harry had come to associate with him, and moved Harry's luggage over to where his sat.

"Professor Dumbledore has offered to transfer our belongings to the house," Severus said, gesturing to the small pile. "I thought perhaps it would be best if we walked from the nearest muggle town."

Harry screwed up his face confusedly. "Why?"

"I'd like you to get a bearing on your surroundings," Severus explained. "Our home is extremely safe; both Dumbledore and I have placed warding on it, and as the Fidelus charm protects it as well, few could wait for you there. Few even know it exists. In the coming years, you may find yourself in need of a safe place to go at a moment's notice. I would like this to be an option to you, but you'll need to get a sense of its location in order to apparate there."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling rather unintelligent.

"Now," Severus said, tactfully ignoring Harry's embarrassment. "There is one floo connection in this town, and to use it, we will have to enter the home of one Nymphadora Tonks."

Harry frowned and tipped his head to the side, but Severus continued before he could ask questions. "I haven't time to explain right now; we can only keep this connection open so long. I will go through, check that all is well, and return. You will then leave and I will follow."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Harry started, shaking his head.

"Well, as I am in charge, it is what I think that matters. And I happen to find it quite necessary indeed. I shall be back momentarily," he said, ducking into the fireplace. "If I have not returned within five minutes, _do not follow_. Alert the Headmaster or Minerva, whomever you should stumble upon first."

"Wh- I- er- how-"

Before Harry could get any coherent words out, however, Severus had disappeared in a burst of green flame, leaving Harry alone in his office. Harry looked blankly around, unsure what had just occurred. Why were they going to Tonks' house? Why was Severus so worried? Was there something going on that, once again, Harry had been left out of? Frustrated and bewildered, Harry sank to the floor and crossed his legs, propping his head up with both hands.

It wasn't long before Severus reappeared, hurriedly motioning for Harry to go through. Harry didn't have time to argue; he shouted his destination and allowed himself to be whisked away from the castle. It only occurred to him afterwards that the Severus who had stepped through the fireplace could really be anyone… Harry would have never known, since he hadn't even said anything.

With relief, Harry found himself being spit out at the feet of a giddily smiling Tonks. He looked up at her, spit the soot out of his mouth, and grinned toothily. She laughed and helped him up, dusting off his shoulders and embracing him in a friendly hug. She pulled back and pointed at his mouth.

"You've got something in your teeth there, Harry," she informed him, laughing again and handing him a handkerchief.

"Oh," Harry muttered embarrassedly, turning a delicate shade of rose and accepting it. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Tonks said, patting him on the back and turning to greet Severus, who had just made a far more graceful landing than Harry had achieved.

Glad neither of them was looking at him, Harry raised her proffered napkin to his mouth and wiped his teeth, wincing at the sight of the black ashes that came off onto the white cloth.

"We can't stay long, Nymphadora," Severus said, moving from her to Harry. "But we thank you for allowing us to use your fireplace."

Tonks put her hands on her hips and glared at the tall dark man, shaking her bubblegum pink head. "First of all, if you are going to insist on calling my Nymphadora, then I will insist on calling you _Sevvy, _and I doubt either of us truly wants that. However, I am willing to sacrifice my pride and fight fire with fire, if that is what it takes. Secondly, I hope you won't keep Harry locked away all Holiday; I would like to see him at one point."

"Rest assured, _Nymphadora_, that I have no intention of locking Harry _anywhere_." He shook his head and turned to Harry, saying so that Tonks could easily hear, "The lack of respect I receive from these people is abysmal."

Harry wondered briefly whom he meant when he said 'these people' but decided not to ask.

"Well," Tonks said exasperatedly, straightening her posture. "I won't keep you any longer." She gave Harry a warm smile. "Goodbye Harry," she said. "I hope to be seeing you soon. And you," she addressed Severus in an irritatingly sweet voice, as though addressing a very small child. "Try to get some sleep and rid yourself of that horrible caffeine addiction. This irritability you seem so prone to may diminish somewhat."

"I do not have a caffeine addiction," Severus growled, looking repulsed as she opened her arms wide.

"Whatever you say!" She said cheerily, wrapping her arms around him as he stiffened and winking at Harry. "Goodbye, Sev."

"Insufferable," was all Severus muttered as he was finally released. He looked at Harry, jerked his head towards the door, and stalked towards it. Harry supposed this meant he was supposed to follow, and quickly.

"Bye, Tonks," he whispered, waving his hand and smiling brightly. Severus' irascible attitude no longer scared him; quite the opposite, it rather amused him.

Harry had to struggle to keep up with Severus as they walked through the town. They were already on the outskirts when they arrived, but there was still quite a bit of distance between this area and the house… or at least, Harry supposed. He had never been there, so he really couldn't judge.

Slowly, the signs of civilization faded. Harry knew he was in trouble when the dirt pathway ended and a long, hilly field of overgrown grass and weeds stretched before them.

"It's not much farther," Severus promised him as they walked. "This is little more than an illusion. You would be able to see the house already if you knew where it was; however, I would prefer to wait until we are within the warding to show you."

"Okay," Harry agreed. This made sense; everything was out of their control until they made it to the house.

Harry was rather confused when Severus stopped in the middle of the field, seemingly pantomiming unlocking and opening a large gate. Harry frowned as Severus gestured for him to step through… step through something. Harry raised an eyebrow as he did so, but immediately understood when Severus handed him a small slip of paper.

Severus Snape and Harry Potter reside in the manor located outside of Flintshire, Wales .

Harry could almost feel the surrounding atmosphere ripple as his eyes scanned the address. He squeezed his eyes shut at the overwhelming sense of power this area now exuded; the combination of Severus' and Dumbledore's warding and the magic the Fidelus charm utilized to reveal the area to him had a daunting effect.

"You can open your eyes, Harry," Severus said gently from his side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Harry nodded and opened his eyes, lifting his head to inspect the house and grounds he now found himself in front of.

A dirt pathway with a smattering of large, flat stepping stones led up to the house. At the doors, it turned into grey brick, and divided to circle the house. Surrounded by abandoned gardens, the path there was overgrown by weeds and snarled plants, obviously not having been touched in years. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen dead plants look so menacing.

The front of the house and its surroundings were a dreary sight. The house was no mansion or castle, but it was undeniably large and quite foreboding. The entire house was dark, with a high, sloping black roof which placed a shadow over the entire front. Rectangular, with one half jutting out farther than the other and containing one heavy set of iron doors, it was made of a dark grey stone, parts of which had been overtaken by unruly patches of ivy. From the arrangement of the windows, Harry could guess that the house had three levels; the ones on the top level were worn and unfurnished, aside from the dark curtains that hung to guard the inside from light and keep prying eyes where they belonged.

"Don't let the outside frighten you," Severus said heavily, watching Harry's face. "Trust that Lily did all she could to balance its outer dark aspects with a sort of inner light." Harry made a face, and Severus waved him off, saying, "You'll see what I mean."

Severus pulled the doors open and led Harry into a sort of entryway. It was mostly empty, aside from one table and a large mirror hanging above it. Under his feet was a dark, glossy wood floor; he noticed with interest that it turned into a more narrow hallway made of the same floor, but with different walls.

"I think," Severus said, looking around, "that now would be the most opportune time to show you around the house."

Harry nodded. "You said it was a manor before," he pointed out as Severus led him down the hall. Its bottom half was panelled in the same wood as the floor was made from; the top half was painted in a deep shade of green. "Do you call it… Snape Manor, or… something?"

Severus turned his upper lip and frowned. "My father did. I simply call it 'the house'. It seems a bit pretentious to name a house after oneself, if you ask me."

Harry smiled in concurrence; he quite agreed. "So nothing like the Malfoy Manor, then?"

Severus gave an exaggerated scoff. "Well, their house is much larger than mine. This one, for instance, contains only three floors. Theirs contains five… and they have wings. The Western Wing, The Eastern Wing… you can imagine. Lucius was always quite obnoxious about his possessions; he had a name for every room in that house."

"Oh," said Harry. "Did you grow up here?"

"No," Severus answered shortly, abruptly changing topic. "This is the kitchen."

Harry was indeed surprised when he stepped into this room, for several reasons. For one, he would have expected Severus to have a formal dining room, to which house elves would bring meals. He knew that Severus owned one elf, whom he had not yet met.

"Your mother was adamant that we should turn this into a kitchen, rather than a dining room," Severus explained, looking both fond and annoyed at the same time. "She said it was her favourite room back at home."

Harry smiled at that thought, and gazed around the room. "I remember this," he said quietly, moving to run a hand over the taupe coloured countertops. Just as in his dream, the walls were a pale yellow, and the cabinets and cupboards were all white. He turned around and noticed that the same oak table with the white frame sat in the middle of the room.

"How do you remember this?" Severus asked, frowning and looking down at him through narrowed eyes.

"Those dreams I was having before," Harry started. "One of them took place in this kitchen. I had forgotten about it until now."

Severus didn't respond; he leaned against the doorframe.

"We can move on, if you'd like," Harry said after a moment. "I'm sure you don't want to spend your whole day in the kitchen."

Severus quirked his lips. "You assume correctly; allow me to call the house elf, and then we will move on."

Harry raised an eyebrow, unsure whether or not he _wanted_ to meet this elf. If it was anything like Kreacher… Harry shuddered, and hoped it would be something more akin to Dobby.

"Tibby!" Severus shouted.

"Tibby?" Harry questioned, smirking.

"Well, I didn't name it," Severus replied, giving him a dark look.

"Yes, Master Snape?" A small, worried looking elf appeared at the doorway. She was sweet looking, and had a soft, innocent voice. She was on the border of being timid, but not so much that she appeared frightened of Severus. Harry hoped his father didn't treat house elves as badly as many other wizards… that just wouldn't sit well with him.

"This is Harry, my son," Severus told the elf, gesturing to Harry.

"Master Harry," Tibby greeted him, nodding and curtseying low.

"You are to answer to his calls, and obey him," Severus said, looking Harry over. "Though use discretion… this one is a trouble maker."

"Excuse me," Harry replied, looking offended.

Severus smirked and looked back at the elf. "You may disregard my last remark."

The elf nodded, but said nothing more. She stood there, awaiting orders.

"Is there anything you would need right now, Harry?" Severus questioned, knowing that the boy would feel odd ordering the elf around on his first day.

"Umm… no," Harry said, shaking his head. He was going to have to get used to the feeling of having a house elf around- she just stood there, blinking at him, almost confused about why he did not want her services at the moment.

"Very well," Severus replied. "Tibby, you are dismissed until further notice."

"Will masters be wanting supper, tonight?" she asked, looking up at Severus. Harry watched her eyes grow wider, and realized that she had been alone in this house for a very long time… she was hoping to have someone to take care of.

"You will be notified," Severus said, nodding.

Tibby nodded and curtseyed again, abruptly removing herself from the room afterwards.

"You're umm… nice to her, aren't you?" Harry questioned worriedly.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Well I'm not cruel, but we're not good friends, if that's what you're asking. She's obedient, and quiet. I like that in an elf, so I see no reason to mistreat her."

Harry supposed this was a better answer than others he might have received.

"I will show you the parlour," Severus said now, stepping out into the hallway. "But we will rarely be in there. It's more for appearances than anything."

Harry could see why this was a room one would not want to spend much time in. It was so stringently neat it was unbearable, almost. It looked like the sort of room only a woman could enjoy; Harry supposed his mother had decorated it. The floor was a light wood, a majority of which was covered by a camel colored area rug, swirled with black and blue. The furniture was white, and a small white oak coffee table sat in the middle, adorned with a vase of flowers, two crystal figures of kneeling children, a bowl of potpourri, and several empty picture frames. Harry wondered briefly if Severus had been the one to take the photos out.

"I don't like this room," Severus said bluntly, moving through another door on the opposite side. "This is the sitting room I spent most of my time in. It was sort of a compromise; I couldn't handle it if the entire house was bright and cheery."

"Merlin forbid," Harry agreed in a serious tone, though he could not hide his smirk. Severus gave him a little shove.

Harry followed him into a much darker version of the previous room. The couches and chairs were covered with dark grey upholstery; they still weren't the black leather couches Severus had most likely fought for, but Harry could tell that his mother had tried to give him some of the gloomy atmosphere he liked… without making it unbearably gloomy for herself.

"I like this room better as well," Harry found himself informing Severus. He could see himself getting up in the morning and planting himself in this room. With the drapes open, it probably wouldn't be as dark.

"I'm glad," Severus said, sounding genuinely so. This surprised Harry; he wouldn't have expected Severus to care what he thought of his home.

They left this room and continued down the hallway. On the way, Severus pointed out the washroom and coatroom and the washroom, but didn't take Harry inside to inspect either. Harry wasn't disappointed.

Once inside the house, it didn't seem as large as it had from the outside. There was one hallway, which was set on a sort of curve so that it could carry one throughout the house without becoming another passage. On the outside of the curving point was a small, circular room; and alcove, really, as it was door-less. Here, a spiralling iron staircase, the same dark colour as the great iron door leading into the house, wound up to reach each of the three floors. It reminded Harry a bit of the staircase leading up to the Divination tower, only not as large.

Severus walked Harry past the stairs and down the hall, at the end of which was a singular wooden door.

"The library," Severus said, as he pushed open the door. "Also referred to as the study; you may call it whatever you like."

Harry stepped inside and looked around. This was truly (at this point) the most impressive room in the house. It was built on a curve similar to the form of the hallway, only wider and facing the opposite direction. It was done entirely in dark cherry wood; the texture and colour of the floors, furniture, and bookshelves blended so well that had Harry not known any better, he might have thought they were all carved from the same tree. The drapes over the windows and colour of the various chairs and fabrics was a deep midnight blue; it was not so dark that it could be mistaken for black, but it wasn't bright enough to overwhelm the senses. The walls were a lighter shade, accented with tones of grey.

In the section of the room farthest from the door was an entire wall of books, which extended as far as the ceiling would allow. There was even a moving ladder attached to the shelves, Harry noted. There were two desks; two separate study areas; one on the right side of the door, near the wall, and one to the left of the door and around the wall. They were adequately separated by another row of bookshelves which stuck out from the wall, reminding Harry of Hogwart's library.

"Why are there two desks?" Harry asked, looking up at Severus.

"Lily and I both needed a study, but she wanted to keep the room upstairs open in case… in case we had children," he explained unsmilingly, looking down at his hands as he said the last part. "We decided this room was large enough to section off; she and I also shared the habit of talking through our thought processes when they became increasingly unclear, and found that we often seemed to complete the each other's logic. This was quite convenient. I debated turning this room into a larger library with only one study area… but I thought perhaps you could make use of it."

Harry's mouth fell agape at this; for some reason, that Severus would offer to share this room with him, as he had with Lily, seemed profound. "Tha- thank you," Harry stuttered out, looking around. "Are you sure I won't be bothering you?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find some way to do that," Severus said, smirking. He softened his voice. "But I don't mind."

"Well… thanks," Harry said again, looking around. "Which desk do I use?"

Severus pointed to the right and said, "That one."

"Can I use those books?"

Severus considered this for a moment, strolling to the farthest end of the library. He peered at the titles for a few moments, moving along the wall, and finally sighed. "You may use anything you can reach without use of the ladder," he said, turning around and crossing his arms. "However, anything that looks remotely questionable, you will ask me about first. The books dividing the two studies are all standard; you could pick them up at any bookshop, so you may use those."

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. This sounded fair enough to him.

"Come," Severus said, striding past Harry and out into the hallway again. "I'll show you your room, and where I sleep in the case that you should ever need to wake me during the night. Our rooms are conveniently separated only by a small corridor which may be accessed from only our rooms."

Harry thought this was quite cool, but thought he'd sound rather juvenile saying such a thing. "What else is upstairs?"

"Anything I do not show you, do not investigate," Severus said.

Harry winced. "Well, how many rooms are you planning on not showing me?"

Severus slanted his dark eyes toward the boy. "Harry-"

"I'm sorry!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly, shutting up after that. He had just been wondering exactly how many temptations he was going to have to resist.

Severus volunteered nothing as he led Harry up the dark staircase, but Harry continued asking questions.

"How do you keep your feet from making any noise on the stairs?" Harry asked in amazement. His own feet didn't make any noise, either, but he was wearing rubber soled trainers; Severus was wearing hard black boots.

"Silencing charms," Severus explained. "Do you believe that I would enjoy hearing you or anyone else clanging up and down the stairs all day- or night- long?"

"Well, my shoes don't make that much noise," Harry said defensively, looking down at his own feet.

"Yes, but Professor Dumbledore is just as fond of boots as I am, and he has promised to visit a great deal," Severus said, unable to keep that edge of annoyance out of his voice. He wasn't irritated by Harry's questions so much as amused; it was the thought of Albus frequenting his house that aggravated him. They reached the top of the stairs, and stepped into the hallway. Severus pointed to his right and said, "My room is the one down the hall, right there. Yours is down here."

"Has he really?" Harry asked, referring to Dumbledore, as Severus led him down the hallway. "For any reason, or…?"

"I think he's rather worried about you, actually," Severus said unappreciatively, raising an eyebrow.

Harry scoffed at this. "Oh, so now he cares how I'm treated," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sixteen years late, but I suppose it's the thought that counts."

Severus almost laughed at the sardonic tone of Harry's voice, but hardly thought Harry would appreciate his amusement.

"This," Severus said as they reached a great wall of glass windows, "Is the balcony. The glass door is in the middle; just look for the handle- there you go. It sits directly above the library, so if I'm in there, perhaps stay inside."

"Couldn't you put silencing charms on it, like you did with the stairs?"

"It's easier to do so to an iron object than on antique stone," Severus explained. "And that would not solve the problem of the windows which sit directly below this ledge."

"Well, it's not like I'll be talking," Harry said.

"You will be if someone else is here."

"I can have my friends over?"

Severus raised his eyebrows and huffed in aggravation. "I've already told you that you may."

"I guess I just… forget," Harry admitted. "I'm not used to having that privilege."

"Understandable," Severus conceded. "Let us move on; I'll show you your room."

The two turned a corner and walked the short distance to Harry's room. They had passed only two doors on their way; Harry also noticed that there was still a lack of portraits… he had come to expect them in Wizarding homes.

Harry was surprised to find that all of his possessions had already been unpacked when he arrived. The room was done in warm tones, with mixtures of blue and gold. The floors and furniture were made of sequoia; gold drapes hung from the windows and from the bedposts on Harry's full-sized bed.

"It's lovely," Harry said sincerely, moving into the room and moving around the open space. He stopped at the window, admiring the way the light fell through and lit up the room. He hadn't expected it to be so… comfortable… homey, maybe that was the word. "I think this is the first Gryffindor colour I've seen in the place," he teased, sitting on the bed and turning his head to smile at Severus.

Severus inclined his head to the side, glad Harry liked his room. "The walls were previously silver, but I thought perhaps you would like something as warm as the Gryffindor common room… I could never handle the obnoxious maroon colour your house is known for, however, so blue seemed a better option."

"Wait… you did this?" Harry asked, widening his eyes and looking around. Every other room had been done by Lily, from what Harry had been told. And this was so… nice. He never would have suspected that Severus would have taken the time to do this for him, let alone do it so well.

"I did," Severus admitted, avoiding eye contact and looking around the room with feigned interest. "I must have learned something from Lily."

Harry laughed quietly and ran his hand over the duvet. "Thanks, Dad," he said softly, turning around just in time to catch the look on Severus' face.

"You're welcome," Severus said, inclining his head. Eager to take the focus off of himself, he pointed to the door across the room. "That door leads to my room. Should you ever need me, do not hesitate to come. I will keep that entrance unlocked, but knock before you enter. This door right here," he said, gesturing the other door just a few feet from the entrance in which he stood, "leads to your own washroom."

Harry nodded absentmindedly, still looking around the room. "I have a question," he said hesitantly, turning to Severus.

"And that is?"

Harry frowned hesitantly, scratching the back of his neck. "Is this… this room… am I going to be able to come back here?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Do you mean to ask if this is your permanent room?"

"Well, in a way… yes," Harry said, nodding.

Severus murmured thoughtfully to himself, moving to sit on the bed. "I am unsure whether Albus will allow you to live here during the summer. From what he has indicated thus far… he wishes you to return to the Dursleys. Even as I am your father, the blood magic will only protect you where someone with your mother's blood dwells. However, you may rest assured that you will always be welcome here, and this room will always be kept for you. It is yours."

"I don't want to go back there," Harry said quietly, leaning against the wall.

"Nor do I want that for you," Severus agreed, rising from the bed. "But your safety is more important than either of our wishes."

"Yeah," Harry breathed shortly, pushing off from the wall and abruptly leaving the room. "Let's just continue the tour, shall we?" he called from the hallway.

Severus tipped his head back in frustration and rose from the bed. "Listen," he said, following Harry out into the hallway. "Don't get short with me. You know I wouldn't let you go back there if it could be avoided."

"I know _you_ wouldn't!" Harry exclaimed, stopping and spinning around. "But I'm sure Dumbledore could have found other ways to protect me without sending me there. And he can sit around and make all these excuses and everyone will go along with them because he is the "Great Albus Dumbledore", the "Only Wizard Voldemort Ever Feared"… and I am just the boy-who-lived, and as long as they keep me alive long enough to solve their problems, anything goes. Do you understand how _frustrating_ that is?"

"I can imagine, yes," Severus said in subdued tones, treading carefully.

"I guess it can't be helped. It's not like I still really blame him all that much… I mean, that wouldn't really accomplish anything. I just… I wish it hadn't been me."

"We all wish that at one point or another in our lives," Severus said, tilting his head to the side and scrutinizing Harry's sour expression closely. "You don't think I said the same thing at least a hundred times when I was young? When I grew up, even? No matter whom you are or what your destiny is, you will always have difficulties, and you can never wish them away. Trying to do so only wastes time. I can sympathize, Harry, but I suggest you move on from this point. The sooner you fully accept it, the sooner you can become the wizard that will defeat Voldemort."

Harry shook his head. "I have accepted it-"

"No, you haven't," Severus countered, shaking his head. "You've accepted that the prophecy is true. You haven't accepted that there is no reason why it was you- you are still searching for some answer, or some way out. You won't find one. I can guarantee very few things, but that is one of them. You will never find any clear, logical answer to these questions."

Harry stared defiantly at Severus, who arched an eyebrow, daring him to argue. Shifting his jaw to the side, he let out a sigh. "Third floor, then?"

Severus continued to stare at him with that one raised eyebrow, prompting Harry to let out an agitated, "What?"

"I think we can cover that tomorrow," Severus said after a moment. "Let's have dinner, and then perhaps we can go through the library and pick out some materials to begin covering."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "You are manoeuvring me," he proclaimed decidedly, pointing his finger condemningly at Severus.

"If you want to think of it that way, fine," Severus said as though he couldn't care less, knowing that Harry was looking for some sort of reaction. The boy wanted to have a reason to argue; he couldn't find a way to disprove what Severus had said about his need for acceptance, so he wanted to win at another argument. Severus, however, was not going to let their Holiday start out with a significant quarrel. "Is there anything you had in mind?"

"Wait- what?"

"In mind for dinner," Severus clarified.

"Oh- no," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Actually, I'm not hungry. I think I'll go to bed."

"Yes, they did serve a rather heavy food today at Hogwarts," Severus said, purposely missing his point. "I think I'll settle down for the night as well."

He was blatantly avoiding an argument, Harry realized. He could tell; the man was almost amused! This was outrageous. He was being handled. He didn't want to be handled, to be seen as a child who needed to be distracted from his anger, rather than have it dealt with.

"I don't much appreciate this, Severus," he said, not realizing how petulant he sounded until it came out.

"If you want to be treated like an adult," Severus said, stepping closer. "Then act like one. Until then, 'this' will continue. I am not going to sit here and argue with you. I've given you my opinion. Do with it what you want, but don't hold it against me."

Harry glared at him for a minute, then gave a grudging, "Fine… can I just see the third floor?"

"Are you going to stop this behaviour?"

"…maybe…"

"Harry…"

"Yes! Okay? Yes!"

Severus gave a groan and lifted his fingers to the bridge of his nose, pinching back the headache that was starting to form there. "You are acting like a five year old."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"_Yes,_ you are."

"_No_, I'm not."

"_Yes_, you- Harry!"

Severus' nostrils flared, and his lips pressed thin in frustration. Dumbledore had told him before departure that Harry might try to push the limits, just to see how far Severus would really let him go, but he had never suspected regression to such an immature level. _He_ had certainly never tried this trick as a child.

"Fine," Harry said a moment later. "I'm sorry. Really. Can we just… pretend this didn't happen?"

It was an pitiful apology. Severus had doubts as to whether or not the boy really even meant it… but for the sake of his poor aching head and slowly degenerating level of sanity, he would accept it.

"I suppose," Severus complied tiredly. "Come, I'll show you the third floor."

"Am I to ignore all the other rooms on this level?"

"I won't take you into them, but I suppose I can sate your curiosity," Severus said as they headed for the staircase. "The one back there used to be the room Lily used for her study of ancient white magic… it's best that you don't enter there. It could not be salvaged; at least, not without several days of work."

"Salvaged… how was it ruined?"

"I… well, I was very angry when I was told that you were Potter's son… she left, and I… I needed something to vent my anger on. Her favourite room, complete with many breakable objects, seemed a good option at the time. Looking back on it I realize I was incredibly foolish to enter such a room and destroy with such rage… but at that point, I felt I had little to lose.

"This room is our old bedroom… I wish to keep it closed off, for obvious reasons."

Harry nodded and tried very hard not to imagine anything about those obvious reasons.

There were eight more steps between the second and third floor than there were between the first and second floor, making it a rather long climb. The third floor also had a very different design than the rest of the house; there was no hallway- rather, a small room with a door, which led into a larger room which seemed to take up half the house. There were many doors around the room, most of which had counters and tables blocking them. Only small amounts of light could stream in from the small, semi-circular windows near the ceiling; all other light was provided by the torches mounted on the walls. Actually, the room quite reminded Harry of the dungeons.

"I've been renovating," Severus explained as Harry looked around at the dark, stone room. "We'll need a place to work on the Alcruor Prosapia Potion… I'd prefer not to travel back and forth between here and Hogwarts."

"We?" Harry questioned, reminded bitterly of the fact that he would not be here.

"Well, Miss Granger, and possibly Professor Dumbledore, will need to assist, at times."

"Hermione? Here? Don't you think that will be a little… weird?" Harry questioned, wrinkling his nose.

Severus raised his eyebrows incredulously. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

"Wha- oh, no! Nothing like that!" Harry objected, waving his hands frantically. "I was just… she's probably going to feel rather awkward around you, after you yelled at her like that on Thursday.

"Ah, that," Severus said, lifting his chin and smirking a bit. "If she can't learn to work outside of her comfort zone, then she will never reach the high aspirations she has undoubtedly set for herself. I would be doing her a disservice by not allowing her this opportunity to grow as a better worker."

"Oh, so you have honourable intentions? That's why you feel the need to insult her."

Severus sighed. "Gryffindors," he muttered to himself. "Those rooms," he said, changing the subject and gesturing around the room, "are not for your sight. If you enter them, I assure you; I will know, and you will suffer. Understood?"

Harry widened his eyes a bit, thinking Severus was rather melodramatic at times. "Yes, I'll stay out," he promised, mentally eliminating all possible thoughts leading to his entering those rooms.

"In fact," Severus said on second thought, looking around the room. "Just… don't come up here, period. Unless I'm up here, that is. Even then, it's best if you stay on the two lower levels."

Harry sighed. Why didn't anyone ever trust him? His curiosity wasn't that strong. "Got it," he replied dejectedly.

"It's not that I don't trust you," Severus said, following Harry down the stairs.

"Then what is it?"

Severus thought for a moment, than sighed and said, "Well, I suppose it is that I don't trust you… but I wouldn't trust anyone to stay out of a room that they were told specifically not to enter. I am simply attempting to avoid a catastrophe."

"Yes, that's me," Harry said resentfully. "A walking disaster."

"You know that I do not think of you that way."

"Do I?"

"Good question; do you?"

"What?"

"I have tried to make myself clear on the fact that I no longer think of you in such negative terms," Severus said, folding his arms. "However, your comment would indicate that I have not made my point clear enough. I do not care what trouble you've caused in the past. I revoke every negative remark I have made towards or about you during your first five years of schooling. Does that make everything clear, or need I explain further?"

"Yes, I'm touched," Harry said flatly, placing his palm on his chest.

"Stop it," Severus said irritably, jerking Harry's hand down. "What is wrong?"

Harry shrugged.

"I'm not going to guess," Severus said, crossing his arms.

"I don't know what's wrong," said Harry, shrugging again.

"Search deep and find the answer," Severus demanded dryly.

"I really don't know… I know I'm being awful, and I'm sorry… I just… I don't know."

"I think you've spent too much time around me," Severus said thoughtfully. "I must be rubbing off on you."

Harry laughed weakly. "No, I don't think that's it. Maybe if I sleep on it…"

Severus nodded. "Come, we'll have a cup of tea first, and then retire. It has been a long day."

Harry nodded gratefully and followed Severus down the hall. The older man grasped his shoulders from behind and gave him a little shake. "And then, perhaps tomorrow, we'll talk about those essays."

Harry groaned, but allowed himself a small smile. So Severus wasn't going to lose his temper with Harry… the only problem seemed to be that Harry was likely to lose his own. He shook that thought out of his head. Like Severus had said, it had been a long day… he was tired, irritable, and anxious about the upcoming weeks… yes. No matter. A night of sleep, and he would be fine… at least, he hoped.

xxx End Chapter 35 xxx

AN: This chapter was so difficult to write. I suppose the challenge came in several ways. One, I added several unplanned scenes, and I had to work really hard to make them flow right. Two, I guess in a way it's a transition chapter, but I worked hard so it wouldn't really feel like one… let me know how I did.

I want to thank all my betas- **Rlmess**, mainly, for this chapter.

Thanks to** Nottbook** for being reviewer 850!

Thank you thank you thank you for all the reviews you gave me! I can't believe it! I swear, I never could have finished this without you guys constantly pushing me along. I almost gave up on this chapter several times- well, not so much as give up so much as push aside, I guess… but I just kept coming back to my mailbox and seeing all your responses and I had to get you another chapter soon… you warm my heart, I love you all so much. Reviews really do give me inspiration, so thank you so much for that motivation.

I don't know if you're all aware, but I do have a yahoo group. I respond to some questions there and give news about how the writing is going, so join for notices and any discussion you would like to have about my fic.

Thank you all again, I couldn't do it without your continued support. You all mean the world to me! Let me know how you liked the chapter, if you please.

Love you all platonically :- )


	36. Divergence

Chapter 36

Divergence

xxx

Harry had been nothing short of exhausted by the time he'd actually made it to bed. Having walked several miles to Severus' house that day and having spent the remainder of the evening touring the house had been tiring in itself. To add to that, Severus had kept him for tea much longer than expected, and had insisted that Tibby would be severely disappointed if she were robbed of the opportunity to serve them dinner. Harry had been sure at the late time he'd been dismissed to go up to his room that sleep would come to him as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Unhappily, Harry was finding this to be quite untrue. As soon as he'd turned the lights out and crawled between the sheets of his new bed, his mind had decided to snap itself out of the sleepy haze that had befallen him hours ago. He attempted to force himself to sleep, squeezing his eyes tightly closed and even going so far as to count the imaginary sheep hopping over his head one by one. He soon found himself annoyed by the incessant bleating on which these little figments of his imagination insisted, and abandoned that attempt in favour of tossing and turning.

He supposed he was kept awake by the constant questioning of his actions that day… just what had caused him to be so irritable? He could have been worse, yes, but he had been unable to keep himself from picking fights with Severus over everything he said. He had been down right aggravating, and was surprised that Severus had put up with him for such a long time.

Staring up at the dark canopy over his bed, Harry rested his hands behind his head and began to mentally turn over the events of the day. Just what was it that he was feeling? Severus had done nothing wrong; not one remark had been made with the intention of provoking Harry- not even in jest. He had told Harry something he hadn't wanted to hear, yes… but Harry thought he had become rather adept at accepting criticism from the man, knowing he only gave it because he cared too much to sugar coat everything as others did. His reaction to Severus' comments had not come from anger… it had been something else. It didn't fit with the way he normally behaved… something was off, but what?

Everything had been fine at first. He had been glad to see the house; it was just a house, nothing to be amazed by, truly, but it had felt… like a new chapter in his life. He had been happy, and nothing short of agreeable.

He thought back to what he had said about Dumbledore. Had the mention of the old man's ignorance put him in such an irascible state? He hadn't dwelled on that in a long time; he'd started to come to terms with the fact that everyone makes mistakes. He had accepted what needed to be done … hadn't he?

Was it possible that Severus was right, and that this had been the factor to set him off? Perhaps he had finally been told something that he really didn't want to hear… someone had finally had the nerve to tell him to get over his boy-wonder drama. He'd been made to realize that he was whining over something he couldn't change, almost just for attention. He'd been made to realize that no matter how humble he tried to be, he still had this complex that made him think he deserved more than these problems. Severus_ was_ right; he was not the only one with problems. He wished he didn't have them… and so did every other person on the planet. His problems didn't make him special… had this slap in the face unnerved his subconscious so greatly that his behaviour had been a reaction?

That couldn't be it. If he had had that great a problem with what Severus had said, wouldn't he have confronted him? Well, perhaps not, but he would have known right away what was bothering him. He wouldn't be lying in this bed, staring around at his dark room, trying to figure out what explanation he would give Severus at breakfast the next morning… and he was going to give an explanation. He would not show his face until he had some way to apologize for the way he had acted… it had been his first day in Severus' house and he had made a complete arse of himself. Harry shook his head at this thought and brought his palm to his forehead. How embarrassing.

It had been something else. _Think, Harry, think, _he told himself. What had it been to set him off? When had his attitude suddenly changed?

Harry closed his eyes and visualized himself talking to Severus. He had started in the bedroom, and moved out into the hall… Oh, that was wonderful- so it had been right when Severus had shown him his room. His father showed him that he actually cared enough to come and fix up a room for him, even going so far as to take into consideration that he would prefer warm colours to cool, and he had turned around and behaved like that. How ungrateful did he seem?

Harry groaned and turned his face into his pillow. This was awful. How did girls think about emotions and actions and all that so often? Just reflecting the past twenty four hours was painful. He couldn't possibly analyze every aspect of the day in hopes of figuring out just what he was feeling. He was at a loss; perhaps a simple apology, with a promise never to repeat this behaviour would do. He sighed. No, it wouldn't do.

Perhaps if he placed himself back in the moment. What had he been feeling at the time? He'd been minorly irritated by Severus' analysis, yes… but minor irritation couldn't have created the problem, he'd already decided that. He'd been tired, having had a long day… but he could go days without sleep and not act like a petulant primary scholar. He'd felt… he'd felt a little weird at being given so much attention… especially with the study, and the room… and… well, he had been a bit uncomfortable. He'd been grateful, nonetheless… but he had felt quite vulnerable, now that he thought about it.

Actually, there was something to that idea. He hadn't really realized it at the time… but no one had ever done this sort of stuff for him before. It ought to have made him feel… oh, he didn't know, warm and tingly inside? That was a funny thought- but yes, that's how it ought to have made him feel… and yet he hadn't. He'd felt uncomfortable- out of his element. Like the rug could be yanked out from underneath his feet at any moment, and he would have nowhere to go but down… that was an accurate description.

Could it have been this vulnerable feeling which had led to his behaviour? He couldn't really see why… why would feeling vulnerable make him act up? He sat up and flopped onto his stomach, hitting the pillow with a small _thud_. It was so… confusing. Logically, feeling so susceptible should have made him do everything possible to keep Severus happy with him… maybe his brain just didn't work right. Maybe he was just… mentally wrong.

It was with this unhappy thought that Harry finally fell asleep half an hour later, having reached no other conclusions on his behaviour. As far as he was concerned, the only explanation lied in the fact that he did not function normally… and that was a problem that was going to have to be fixed.

xxx

Severus was, by nature, an early riser. Like most children, he'd always been the first one to rise in his house; unlike most children, he had never grown out of the habit. His home had never been peaceful, but he had found solitude in the earliest hours of the day; they had always been his favourite part of the day, even if they were the time when he was least pleasant. It was an odd mix; he liked the morning, but he wasn't a morning person.

Despite the good company Harry provided, Severus sincerely hoped that the boy was always a late riser when given the opportunity. He didn't want him to sleep the day away, naturally, but he knew he would be very unpleasant if he didn't have those few hours to himself.

Severus made his morning cup of tea with unusual haste, anxious to get into the library and ensure that any and all inappropriate books were out of Harry's reach… even on tip-toes. Given an inch, Harry would most likely take a mile- and Severus would take no chances. If the boy got his hands on any material that was so much as questionable, Severus would undoubtedly be blamed and Dumbledore would have just one more reason to constantly check up on them. Severus did not need the adjective 'irresponsible' tacked onto the long list of interchangeable words which often preceded his name in the course of conversation.

Severus entered the library and flicked his wand at the antique lamp sitting on his desk, giving dim light to the room. Knowing he would damage his already waning eyesight by reading the book titles in such soft light, he regretfully lifted his seldom-used glasses from his desk and slipped them over his hooked nose. He envisioned Harry standing in front of him. The boy came to just below his shoulder; he wasn't short, but he wasn't as tall as Severus… he would have to wager that he stood about five feet, eight inches tall. Lifting his hand to this mark on his chest, he swung his arm out to measure how high on the bookshelf this came. Moving his hand a few feet above that, where he would guess was the highest that Harry could reach, he tapped his wand on that row and the books illuminated blue. Satisfied, he nodded to himself and began reading through the titles on that shelf.

It didn't take him very long to come across a book which he knew to be inappropriate for Harry's age level. _Nocturnicon: Calling Dark Forces and Powers_ was not what Severus would deem helpful reading material; he immediately climbed the ladder and placed it on the uppermost shelf.

Severus spent a good three hours reorganizing his library, and by eight that morning, the unpleasant task had been finished, along with three rejuvenating cups of tea. He settled behind his desk and admired his work. They books were neatly arranged on the top shelf; the lower ones had some gaps, for his dark arts collection was apparently larger than he had realized, but nonetheless, it looked organized… and that was the way Severus liked his books.

Leaning back in his chair, he wondered vaguely how long he had until Harry woke up. He'd known the boy to wake as early as six and as late as noon… he wasn't very predictable, that way. He didn't know exactly how he would act when the boy did surface, however, so he wasn't overly enthusiastic about the idea of Harry waking up soon.

He felt that, all in all, he had done an admirable job of controlling his temper the previous night. After reading what Harry had written earlier that week in Potions class, he'd been mentally preparing himself for the challenges that would be thrown at him during this holiday. However, he hadn't expected such an attitude from his son; the boy had acted far too immaturely for his liking. At the time, he had been focusing on keeping his temper at bay and disallowing Harry to receive a reaction; now, however, he was wondering if the boy ought to be reproached.

He supposed his next course of action could only be determined by Harry's apparent remorse, or lack there of, that morning. He wanted to see if the boy seemed to have learned his lesson on his own, as Severus had rather hoped he would. That had been the point of allowing him to have tea and conversation with him before bed, rather than immediate punishment… Harry was old enough to be allowed to come around on his own, when it came to things like this. The question was whether or not he was mature enough to actually do so.

Severus shook his head and removed his glasses, running a hand over his face. Parenting was much more tiring than he had ever imagined; he could easily run a room full of students by filling their hearts with fear, minds with lectures, and papers with notes. Rearing his own child, however, he had to take into account the relationship that needed to grow between them. He had to take into account the boys mental, physical, social, and emotional health, rather than merely his actions and their outcomes. He cared for the boy; he never imagined caring for a child would make things so difficult. If anything, he might have thought this would make things easier.

He now found himself spending half his time reflecting on the child's welfare, and worrying that he was not fulfilling his proper role as father. Merely thinking about this was exhausting; there were so many things to take into account. Harry was not his property, his student, or his charge- he was a delicate child whom he was responsible for strengthening and growing into a good adult.

A soft knock on the door soon interrupted Severus' thoughts. Recognizing the knock, he said tiredly, "Yes, Tibby?"

"Master Snape," Tibby greeted him, pausing in the doorway to curtsey. "A letter comes for you, sir," she said, holding up a plain white envelope.

Severus squinted from his desk; it had the Weasley family seal. He nodded and extended his hand. "Yes, I'll take that. Tibby, see to it that breakfast is served ten minutes from now, and notify Harry."

"Yes, sir," the elf complied quietly, leaving the room quickly. Severus supposed he ought to have given her more notice on breakfast; after all, she hadn't cared for humans in years. He shrugged at this thought and opened the letter.

_Professor Snape, _it started.

_I realise that there are restraints on your time, and that this is on shorter notice than you might prefer, but I am writing to request some of yours and Harry's time today. My youngest son has informed me that Harry is currently under house arrest, but that he may receive visitors. Hermione Granger is visiting for the day and the three children have asked me to bring them to see Harry at some point; I was hoping that might be alright with you. If not, that is perfectly understandable. If you are agreeable to this, we will arrive mid-afternoon. Please send your answer back with this owl. _

_Thank you,_

_Molly Weasley_

Severus read the letter over and set it down, rolling his eyes. If he knew Molly Weasley (and he was quite sure he had a thorough understanding of her person) she was not one to write such a letter. Her purpose was quite transparent; no, he did not doubt that the three Gryffindors had asked her to bring them for a visit, but he could easily assume that the reason she had agreed was so that she might check up on Harry. It was becoming increasingly annoying, this constant mistrust everyone placed in him. Harry was happy with him… at least, he hoped he was.

Reluctant to divide his son from his friends and earn the boy's resentment over his mild vexation with Molly Weasley, he crossly wrote back at the bottom of the letter, unwilling to waste good parchment on a short and simple note:

_That will be fine. Do not come before 2 PM. _(Severus contemplated writing that this was because Harry would need time to recuperate from the beatings, but upon reflection realised that she would think him serious.) _I will tell Harry you are coming. _

_S.S. _

Severus hoped his short, snappish tone was conveyed well enough through the lack of greeting and brief note filled with abrupt sentence structures. No, he doubted she would get it. She wasn't the brightest candle in the hall.

Refolding the parchment, slipping it into a new envelope, and stamping it with the Snape seal, he summoned Tibby and grudgingly sent it off with her, instructing her to use the same owl with which the letter had arrived. Shaking his head, he rose and went to the kitchen, looking forward to a peaceful breakfast with Harry.

xxx

Harry was a bit caught off guard when Tibby entered his room and informed him that breakfast was to be served in ten minutes. Not only was this incredibly abrupt, but also, he was rather uneasy at the thought of sharing breakfast with Severus at this time. He hadn't yet worked out how to explain everything to Severus, and he had already promised himself that he would give the man his due apology.

Thinking quickly, Harry feigned a yawn and climbed slowly out of his bed. "Thanks, Tibby. Go ahead and tell Severus that he can eat without me; I don't want to keep him waiting, and I really need a shower and all."

He wondered at the frightened widening of her eyes as he said this.

"You is not wanting to join Master for breakfast?" She questioned, glancing nervously from side to side.

"Er- no?" Harry answered unsurely, fisting his hands in the pockets of his robe and shrugging. He couldn't see what the big deal was; Severus ate by himself all the time. "Could I have some towels, though? I noticed last night that there weren't any in there."

"Yes, sir," Tibby said, bowing her head. "Tibby will get master towels and deliver his message to Master Snape."

"Yeah… thanks," Harry said awkwardly, standing in place and waiting for the elf to disappear. She quickly made her exit, and several seconds later, a stack of dark blue towels blinked into existence outside his bathroom door. "Nice service," Harry commented to himself, smiling and pulling the top towel off the stack. He headed into the bathroom, warmed by the prospect of a relaxing shower and another hour to decide exactly what needed to be said to Severus.

xxx

If Harry could have seen the dark look that manifested itself on Severus' face when Tibby delivered his message, he most likely would have had the sense to forego the shower and bolt downstairs with a ready apology. However, as the walls were not transparent and he didn't have Moody's magical eye, he had no way of knowing what a mistake he was making.

From Severus' point of view, Harry was avoiding him… it was the only logical answer. Perhaps he was overreacting to this, but he hardly cared. Severus was more agitated by the boy's refusal to come down to breakfast than he was by the lack of apology… though that certainly played a role in provoking his fury. Rather than owning up to his actions, Harry was opting to evade Severus until his temper cooled and he was out of the danger zone… if only the stupid boy had realized that Severus' temper had already been in check. He'd told Harry that he would attempt to control himself; had the boy thought he'd been lying?

Infuriated by Harry's seemingly immature actions, Severus cancelled breakfast and ordered the elf from the room. Leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him, he pondered his next course of action. He briefly considered storming up the boy's room and demanding that he come down to breakfast… if he really was in the shower, however, he supposed that would be quite awkward… and it was a rather bold thing for Severus to do. He was a man of subtlety. Also, indignant as he was, he didn't want the boy to feel his point had been proven- Severus Snape had firm control over his temper, and he would not have anyone thinking otherwise.

Severus raised his eyebrows, considering for a moment the many times he had lost his temper in the past. He shook his head and thought defensively, _those times were different. _

No, he still wanted the boy to come to him and apologize on his own. He wanted him to understand that while he _could_ be tolerant, the boy was still expected to take responsibility for any behaviour that went amiss. He shook his head. Not for the first time, he thought that perhaps he had been too lenient with the boy. He supposed that in his endeavour to keep that familiar harshness and overbearing nature out of his dealings with Harry, he had gone the opposite way, and run into just as ruinous a problem.

He would not become the tyrant he had grown up with; he had vowed as much to himself a very long time ago. Still, Harry was going to learn how to interact properly and cleverly with Severus whether or not it killed him. It was obvious that the boy didn't understand that he had been gifted the previous night; in fact, had he not realized at the time how awful he was being, Severus would have come down on him then and there… instead Harry had been given a chance, and blown it.

Making up his mind, he rose and stormed towards his study. If the boy could not find it within him to give his due apology, or at least show his face at breakfast, he could start atoning for his last misdeed now- perhaps it would remind him of how Severus dealt punishment, and give him that extra push he needed.

Severus banged around a bit, looking for some extra quills and the prompts he had written for Harry several weeks earlier. Finding them after a quick search, he sat down and penned a short missive to attach to the front. Though his ruminations had significantly cooled his fit of pique, he wanted Harry to know that he did not plan to ignore this slight… and give him a subtle warning to show some contrition before Severus forced penance from him.

His message did not take long to put down on paper; he had no need for long, drawn out explanations or words to soften the blow. He would leave no room for miscalculation; there would be no doubt in Harry's mind what Severus meant by this.

Re-reading the note and the prompts, Severus nodded to himself and set out to leave them on the kitchen table, before heading up to the third floor.

xxx

A good part of thirty minutes having been spent slumped against the shower tiles, hot water beating upon his lean frame, Harry was confident by the time he got out that the kitchen would be empty. He was not normally partial to such long showers, barring the nights he spent practising Quidditch in the bone-chilling rain. He wasn't especially fond of prunes, and had no particular desire to turn into one.

For some inexplicable reason, however, he could not bear the idea of showing his face on the lower levels. Having reflected upon the immaturity of his actions for amounting hours now, his mortification had risen to a petrifying level. He was… to state it simply, highly embarrassed, and now regretting having put off his confrontation with Severus for so long.

Part of him recognized the significant amount of forbearance that Severus had displayed. The man had made an admirable effort to contain his temper, he now realized. Surely, he could display the same amount of determination and set aside his pride, right?

Harry dressed in warm clothes and towel dried his hair, forsaking any futile attempts to tame it with his comb. With trepidation, he slowly made his way down to the kitchen, walking slowly and attempting to step quietly so that Severus would not be alerted to his presence. He would go to the man when he was ready; he didn't relish the thought of being swooped down upon, as normally happened back at school.

Reaching the kitchen, he peered around the doorway and looked around. All clear. He stepped in, and was surprised to see a stack of papers, not food, on the table. He had somewhat expected Severus to set aside a meal for him… apparently he had forgotten, or something.

Harry approached the papers cautiously; he didn't know what they were, but Severus usually took his own work with him wherever he went, or left it in his study. Harry could not imagine him sitting in the kitchen, grading his papers there for the light atmosphere.

They were for him, he could see when he got close enough to read the top of the page. His name was printed in dark, spiky letters, followed by a violent slash that he supposed was meant to be a comma. The same ink appeared to have written the message below his name:

_Harry,_

_Perhaps you were unaware, but refusing to show your face at the breakfast table is a sign of utmost disrespect, and I will not have it in this house. Avoiding me and refusing meals only serves as punishment for yourself; it is of very little consequence to me. _

_When you are finished behaving like a moronic first year, and have come sufficiently to your senses to realize that avoidance is not the answer to all your problems, you may come find me. Until these things have happened, however, and you have seen the error of your ways, keep out of my path. I won't be happy should you choose to show up at my door and gape like a fish, so I suggest that you have a decent idea of what you are going to say when you approach me. Don't presume to waste my time; it is far too valuable, and listening to you stutter at me does not seem a worthwhile activity. _

_Below this missive are your essay prompts. You will spend the remainder of your sulking time working on them; do not let me catch you doing anything else. I will check your progress before dinner tonight if I have not spoken to you by that time. You may make use of the library, but remember our agreement that you would not view the books above your reaching height. I am in no mood to be disobeyed, so I suggest you refrain from testing those particular limits. _

_I will be on the third floor if you need me or have something to say to me. Otherwise, do not bother me. _

Shocked, it took Harry several minutes to absorb this letter. He reread it a second time, wondering if perhaps some of the harshness of its tone might have been imagined.

It wasn't.

Harry sank down into the chair and buried his head in his hands, forcing back that choking feeling in his throat. He'd really done it now. If Severus hadn't been seriously ireful before, he was now.

He hadn't meant to avoid Severus… for the reasons Severus had guessed, at any cost. He had only wanted to give him a perfect apology… one that wouldn't leave him sitting there gaping like a fish, as Severus had so eloquently phrased it in his missive. Would the man accept that explanation? Was there any other explanation to give him? Yes, he had been relatively scared, but that hadn't been his main reason for missing breakfast, nor had he meant it as a sign of disrespect. No one had ever cared before whether or not he came to breakfast; he hadn't thought Severus would mind eating in silence… in fact, he thought he would be viewed as somewhat of a pest if Severus was forced to eat every meal with him.

He guiltily reflected now that these thoughts had been rather stupid. First of all, Severus had given him very little reason for fear the previous night. Second, Severus had told him on several occasions (however vaguely) that he enjoyed his company. Why had Harry second-guessed that?

Harry ran a finger over the ink; it smudged, just slightly. He guessed it had been written not ten minutes ago. Glancing woefully over his father's writing, he decided that Severus would need some time to cool off before Harry even _attempted_ to explain. Best not to put it off too long, of course, lest Severus believe he was being avoided again… but now, ten minutes after the message was left, was not the best time to try to redeem himself.

Harry sullenly began on his essays. Admittedly, he didn't much feel like working on them at the moment… not that he wasn't feeling remorseful, he just… he would have preferred to take a walk, or do something else to get his current thoughts in order. Concentrating on his grievances from nearly a month ago didn't do much to clear his mind. Still, he would do them… and he would do them well.

Harry spent several hours, sitting at the kitchen table, working on his essays. He'd made a few trips to the library for different books and references, but had made them as quick as possible, just in case Severus came downstairs. He didn't want the man to get the idea that he was doing anything other than writing his essays.

So, write he did. The first essay took him a surprising two hours, but looking over it, he decided that Severus would appreciate the quality with which it was composed. At least, he hoped he would… he didn't want the man to think he was only putting in half the effort he was capable of. He immediately moved on to the second essay, thinking that perhaps once he was finished with this one, he would be able to speak with Severus.

Harry was halfway to finish when he heard the unmistakable voice of his father coming from the room across the hall. He leaned back in his chair, trying to see where he was. He could see just the ends of Severus' black robes a few feet away from the fireplace. He suspected that someone was on the other end, speaking with him.

After a moment's consideration, Harry got up and crept to the door, leaning against the frame and hanging his head out into the hallway for a better listening advantage. He winced as he heard the bleakness and austerity of his father's voice; it wasn't difficult to tell that he was gritting his teeth and biting back the unkind words forming at the tip of his tongue.

"Well, I wouldn't know, as the boy has been avoiding me all day," he was saying in a low growl, clearly attempting to keep Harry from overhearing.

Harry frowned. He wasn't trying to _avoid_ Severus, so to speak. He was just trying to let the man's temper subside before they spoke again.

Severus spoke again. "I don't know, Albus."

There was a pause.

"No- no, I ask you not to interfere-"

A second pause.

"Everything _is perfectly_ under control. An adolescent's childish reactions to being reprimanded and refusal to give an apology are nothing out of the ordinary. Do you disagree?"

Another pause.

"No, you may not come through- Albus! No- this conversation has come to an end; you may not come to call at this time. Harry and I can and will make it through this holiday without being babysat, I can assure you that. No. _Goodbye, Albus_."

Harry took this as his cue to jump back from the door and take his place at the kitchen table again. He half expected Severus to come and check on him as he left the parlour, but to both his relief and disappointment, the man's footsteps bypassed the kitchen. Harry sat for several moments, wondering if he would change his mind and return… but after ten minutes, Harry gave up hope. Severus was still going to make him come to him.

He couldn't let Severus walk around fuming over this all day; apparently, his anger was not going to lessen… it was just going to simmer until he reached his boiling point. Sighing, Harry placed his hands on the table and pushed himself to his feet, bracing himself for this confrontation. He was ready to do this… he needed to do this… he was just worried about how Severus would behave.

For some reason, the walk from the kitchen to the stairs now seemed much further than it had previously, and the stairs much taller. Harry tried to calm his mind and focus on what he was going to say when he arrived at the third floor. He knew he would have to say it quickly, before Severus had a chance to reprieve him for 'wasting his time'.

Harry climbed the last few stairs at a slower pace and hesitated before opening the door, turning his words over in his mind. He shook his head at this hesitation; he was a Gryffindor, wasn't he? He ought to be able to face Severus with the courage his house was known for.

Harry reached down and twisted the door handle, opening the door slowly.

"Severus?"

His father's back was facing him. The man slowly turned around, arching an eyebrow. Harry took this as an indication that he was to step into the room and begin speaking.

"I- er- I came to apologize…" he started off, trying hard to maintain eye contact with the older man. Severus nodded for him to continue. "I want you to know that I wasn't trying to… to avoid you… I was planning on apologizing. I just… I wanted more time to plan what I was going to say, so that I wouldn't end up… 'gaping like a fish'."

"Ah," Severus said, raising his eyebrows. Truthfully, hearing this, he felt somewhat guilty over the harsh tone with which he had written the letter. He had written with the thought in the back of his mind that Harry would be sulking all day long, and that had made him rather irritable and not at all generous with his kindness. Admittedly, he was surprised to see the boy standing before him so early in the day, and was considerably softened by the fact. Still, he'd be damned before he let the boy know that.

Harry was hoping his father might help him out a bit more… lead him into the topics that he wanted to discuss. However, he was offering him no aids or baiting. Harry found he rather preferred the other way.

"I thought a lot about how I um… how I acted last night," Harry said, stomach doing flips now. Severus wasn't giving him much to work off of, and Harry couldn't tell if his apology was going to be accepted. For all he knew, he was doing this for nothing.

Severus nodded. This was good to hear; it was all he had really wanted in the first place, just for Harry to think about his actions, instead of brushing them off. For the first time, he gifted the boy with a true response. "And what conclusions did you come to?"

Harry breathed a sigh of relief; the man had taken mercy. Harry had never been one for monologues… he had no desire to begin speaking with them now.

"Well… I couldn't figure it out at first. I don't think I was really angry with you over anything. I guess I eventually came around to thinking about when it started… and I realized… I think being given so much made me feel umm…like I needed to keep my guard up." Oh, this was absolutely painful; he didn't like to put his emotions out there for anyone, especially not someone who could so easily rip him apart. Still, if it was the only way to make things right… "No one has ever really given me so much… it's scary to think that… I don't know."

"That it could all be taken away very quickly?"

Harry nodded, looking down.

"I might agree with that assessment," Severus said in subdued tones. Harry had attempted to push him away before Severus could do the same to him… it had been a subconscious, half-hearted effort, but an effort nevertheless. "I'm somewhat surprised you thought it through so well."

"Well, I thought I owed it to you…" Harry said, shrugging. "And I wanted to know as well. I really am sorry, you know."

"How are the essays coming?"

Harry was taken a bit off guard by this change of topic, but supposed it was his best choice to answer regardless. "I've got one of them finished, and I'm almost done with the other."

Severus didn't change his facial expression. He couldn't help but be suspicious; Harry had actually sat down and written his essays? He hadn't expected this… he had expected that less than he had expected a prompt apology. He murmured thoughtfully and turned around, distracting himself with the sealing spells he was placing upon the wood countertops for his workroom.

Harry sensed, somehow, that this was the end of their conversation for the moment. He turned to leave, stopping with his hand rested on the door handle.

"Are we… alright?" he asked after a moment of indecision.

Severus stopped his wand work and rested his hands on the counters. "I accept your apology, Harry… and I am grateful for it."

"Right… good," Harry said, forcing some sort of cheeriness into his voice. "Well, I'll just leave you to this, then."

Severus nodded and waited until he heard the door close. It wasn't that he was still angry with the boy… he was upset with himself for assuming the worst. Harry had done what he'd been asked. He'd come of his own free will and offered an apology- not eloquent in its stating, but essentially perfect in content. It was more than he would have expected of any teenage boy… and yet, if experience had taught him anything, Harry was an extraordinary child. Why had he ignored everything he'd learned about the boy to date? Had the severity of his reaction pushed Harry back to the place they'd been at several months ago?

Severus pondered this for a while as he worked, until another thought occurred to him. The boy thought he was still angry. He'd allowed him to walk away, and his acceptance of the boy's penitence had been perfunctory at best. He almost wanted to laugh at the irony of it all- misunderstandings were bound to be the end of his and Harry's friendly relationship.

Shaking his head, he slid his wand into his robe pocket and quickly descended the stairs. He would have to make it clear, somehow, that he was not still angry with Harry. He guessed the boy would have retreated to his room, and so he moved to that corner of the house.

He knocked on Harry's door and waited. "Harry?" he called, pushing the door open. The room was empty. He cursed to himself and retreated, aiming to check the kitchen next. As he passed the great glass doors leading to the balcony however, he saw a small form out of the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked outside; Harry was sitting upon the ledge and leaning against the house, staring out across the grounds.

Severus stepped outside and stared at the boy for a moment, measuring his stance. The pure recklessness of the child was infuriating. "_Get down from there, now_," Severus said slowly, carefully enunciating every word.

Harry looked his way and struggled not to laugh at the shocked expression on Severus' face. He hopped onto the stone surface of the balcony and watched Severus wince at this quick movement.

"What are you thinking, sitting perched like that on the balcony?" Severus asked, moving towards him. "You've survived the Dark Lord more times than I can count on one hand, and you now wish to plummet to your death?"

"Well, I figured, it's the way birds learn how to fly, so… maybe it would work for me. Good skill to have during the war, if I could master it." Harry said seriously, looking back at the rail with a perplexed expression on his face.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Only if you didn't kill yourself in the process."

"Well, if I can't fly, there's really no use living," Harry replied, shrugging and looking out over the garden. "I need some sort of advantage over Voldemort… this seems like a good one."

There was silence for a moment, and then, "You had better not be serious."

Harry finally laughed and turned back to Severus. "I'm not," he said, shaking his head. Severus seemed to breathe a sigh of relief at this. It was moderately amusing to think that he might consider Harry serious on something such as that.

It didn't take long for the uneasy feeling to settle over the two of them again. Soon they were both avoiding eye contact, their previous moment of light heartedness forgotten.

Harry cleared his throat and spoke first. "So umm… I thought you were working on your workroom."

Severus nodded. "I thought… perhaps you might like to help," he said, raising his gaze to meet Harry's.

"Really? I won't be bothering you?"

Severus shook his head. "I did not mean for it to seem as though I was still upset with you… I'm not."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable, but grateful for this peace offering, nonetheless. "Well umm… yeah, then, sure."

The walk up to the third floor was silent. Severus stared unwaveringly ahead, and Harry glanced sideways at Severus every few moments, trying to catch a hint of expression. As much as he would have loved to believe that Severus wasn't angry with him, it was difficult to do so when the man acted so to the contrary.

Once upstairs, Harry was pointed to the wall of counters opposite to the one Severus had been working on, and told to magically scrub the wood countertops so Severus could come behind him and perform the same sealing spell on them as he had the others. Harry gave no argument or questions, and started to work right away.

He was unsure how long they would spend working up there, but he was glad for something to occupy him. He might have been upset about being given the work, and compared it to the way the Dursleys had treated him previously… but this was very different from the chores they had given him. It felt good, to have Severus working right along side him. Even if the man really was angry with him, it meant something that he had thought to let Harry know that they were still on good terms.

They did not work for more than two hours. At one o' clock, Severus slipped his wand back into his sleeve and tossed a tarnished rag onto one of the counters, stepping back to inspect their work.

"Well," he muttered thoughtfully, scrutinizing the gleaming wood surfaces, "it's coming along slowly… but it's coming along, nonetheless."

Harry smiled a little to himself. If Severus thought this was slow going, he would hate to see what he thought of the muggle method.

Severus glanced over at Harry, and noted the half hearted smile on his face and, upon reflection, realized that the boy had not attempted to initiate one conversation during the course of their work. This had not bothered Severus, as he was normally a quiet worker, but it was uncharacteristic for the Boy-Who-Would-Not-Shut-Up.

"I really am _not_ angry with you, you do realize," Severus said tentatively, frowning slightly.

Harry shrugged noncommittally.

"Harry," Severus intoned, prodding him to expand on the gesture.

"Well… I guess you just… seem angry, that's all."

"I always seem angry," said Severus, narrowing his eyes into an expression resembling perplexity.

Harry gave a half laugh, and shook his head. "No, you don't," he negated, shaking his head. "You always seem stern and foreboding, but not always angry… and I've become used to that, by now."

"Ah," Severus responded, raising his eyebrows and giving a nod. "I'm not angry with you, Harry," he assured the boy, attempting to make his expression more relaxed. "If I was, I would say as much."

While Harry supposed this was true, he could not help but still be a bit doubtful. In favour of preventing any sort of argument, however, he silently accepted this with a nod.

"Now," Severus continued, resuming his brisk manner, "You'll be pleased to know that several of the Weasleys and Miss Granger are stopping in for a visit this afternoon-"

"Are you serious?" Harry exclaimed excitedly, only realizing he had cut Severus off by the annoyed expression on the older man's face. "I'm sorry, continue."

"I requested that they arrive no earlier than two, but there was no correspondence past that point, so I am not sure what time they will be arriving. I suggest you go to clean up and get redressed. I will endeavour to gift you with my absence while they are here, but if they are staying for dinner, please inform me so that I may give Tibby instructions. They will most likely have taken lunch before they arrive, as well, so I suggest you eat something as well."

"Okay," Harry said, absorbing all of this and making a mental checklist in his mind. "Won't you be eating?"

"Dinner, yes," he said, nodding. "I'm going to work on this a bit longer, however."

Harry nodded, wondering to himself if Severus had eaten anything today. "Are there any rooms you would like me to keep them out of?"

Severus grimaced, just realizing that several Weasleys and the curious Granger creature would be roaming his home. "It should go without saying that they may not enter any of the rooms that I instructed you to stay out of… my quarters, of course… if you go into the study, take care to stay away from my work area." Severus paused, thinking, and then said, "I am placing tremendous amounts of trust in you, Harry, in letting you have your friends here… included in that is the trust that you will make wise choices. Are we clear?"

Harry nodded. "Yes, of course," he said sincerely. "And I'm really grateful for this, you know."

Severus nodded curtly and glanced around the room. "I'm sure you can find your way down to your room without me," he said in way of a question. Harry rolled his eyes and nodded. "Very well; Molly Weasley will most likely wish to have a word with me when they arrive, so kindly fetch me when they do."

"Alright," Harry agreed easily, moving towards the door. "Oh- what do you want with the essay I completed?"

"Place it on my desk and have the rest of them done by the time we return to Hogwarts," Severus said, thinking to himself that he ought to have stricter time restraints, and yet failing to revise his statement.

"Fair enough," Harry said, opening the door. "Have fun up here."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," Severus muttered, pulling out his wand and going back to work.

xxx

Harry didn't waste time taking another shower. He washed his face and hands, shook the dust out of his hair, and changed clothes. He grinned into the mirror and thought to himself that this was as efficient a way to get clean as showering was.

Frowning, he then wondered if that was the idea Severus had started out with.

Harry rolled his eyes at this thought and dipped his head into the sink, summoning a bottle of shampoo and washing out the dirt his hair had accumulated in the workroom. Satisfied several minutes later that he was not following in his father's hygienic footsteps, he towelled off his hair and got rid of the water he had splashed onto the floor.

Harry was both excited and worried about his friends' upcoming visits. Hermione- and Ginny, if she came- would be fine. He knew they might be a bit uneasy being in the Potions Master's house at first, but they wouldn't be stupid about it. Ron, however… well, Ron had been fairly understanding, so far. Yes, he had made several gibes about Severus over the course of the last few weeks… but that was to be expected, Harry felt, and it was quite forgivable. However, he wondered if Ron's fear would be amplified in the man's home… and he knew that was part of why Ron acted the way he did. It wasn't simple dislike; Ron hated being intimidated, and this was his reaction to it.

Harry had been able to replace his bad memories and feelings toward Severus with good ones. Hermione had been able to sympathize, because he had spoken with her about it more than anyone else. Ginny had been the same, because not only had Harry spoken to her about it, but also, Hermione had explained it to her several times.

Ron, on the other hand, was still the one person Harry most disliked speaking to about Severus. While he was a good friend, he was an awful advice giver, and rather inept at understanding a broad range of emotions or changes of heart. Harry didn't blame him for this, of course. He'd lead a relatively simple life up until he'd met Harry, in which jealousy and competition were his biggest problems. He didn't understand the need for family, because he had such a big one already. He didn't understand the _significance_ of having a father that cared, because unlike Harry, he had always had one. Most importantly, he could not separate Professor Snape from Harry's father, because he hadn't seen that side of the man.

The worst of it all was Ron's fierce loyalty to his best friend. Harry couldn't deny that this had to be the driving factor for Ron's hate of his father. He couldn't forget the way Harry had been treated. It is, after all, easier to forgive someone of their sins when one is the victim of said wrongdoings. When angry on the behalf of another, it is much more difficult to let go of that righteous infuriation.

Flicking his wand at the lights and stepping out of the room, Harry sighed to himself and headed towards the kitchen. As much as he could understand Ron's attitude, he knew he wouldn't much enjoy it if it got any worse. He didn't know what his reaction would be if anything else was said about his father. Upon reflection, he should have been able to easily shake off all those negative remarks… after all, once upon a time, he had been the main advocate for all things Snape-hate related.

For obvious reasons, his opinions had changed… but Ron's hadn't, and for some reason, he knew he would most likely snap if his friend kept it up. He wanted this to be a pleasant visit. He just didn't know if that would be possible.

Shuffling through his papers to find his completed essay, Harry started off towards the study. As asked, he placed his essay atop Severus' desk, and filed his other papers into his own. He felt somewhat satisfied as he stepped back and inspected his own neat work area. He'd only been there for one day, but thanks to Severus' endeavours, he was already starting to feel settled in.

Harry stepped around the desk and sat down, sliding his chair in and relaxing. He looked around at the warm room contentedly, and smiled to himself. Even if Ron didn't believe it… even if Severus didn't always act like it… his father cared about him. That much was clear.

xxx

It was actually a bit later in the evening when the Weasleys and Hermione finally arrived. Harry had fallen asleep in the study, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk. He was awoken by the house elf, which was tugging at his sleeve and calling his name.

"Guests is being here, sir," Tibby informed him, once he groggily opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep in the study… nor that he had been tired in the first place.

"Thank you, Tibby," Harry grunted as he swung his legs off the desk and onto the floor, and heaved himself upward. He straightened his glasses, pushed his chair back in, and headed for the front door.

Standing there, looking around curiously, were Mr. Weasley, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione. Harry smiled and came to a quiet stop, waiting for them to notice he was standing there.

"Harry," Hermione gasped about half a second later, smiling. "I didn't see you there!"

"Yeah, I only just got here, that's why. I fell asleep in the study." Harry would not have admitted it aloud to anyone, but he very much liked the sound of that. It made him feel important.

"You have a study?" Ron asked, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah," Harry replied stiffly, unsure of what was to follow.

To his relief, however, Ron only said, "Oye… I suppose that means you'll be expected to do your homework then, eh, if you have a special room for it?"

Harry laughed at this, glad when Ron smiled. "Yeah, downright cruel, isn't it?"

"If you think that's cruel, I can't wait to see what you think of the work you'll be given after Christmas," came his father's deep voice from behind, and he felt a warm hand lightly grip his shoulder. He looked behind him, and was surprised to see an amused expression on the man's face. "I'm sure you'll find it downright torturous."

"I'm sure," Harry agreed, hoping he was joking. "I was going to come get you, you know."

"The elf beat you to it," Severus told him, moving in front of him to greet Mr. Weasley.

"Arthur," he said, much more warmly than Harry might have expected. It wasn't a friendly greeting, but his voice wasn't as cold as it normally was when he greeted a person. "I thought you would be working today."

"Called off duty," the red-haired man said quietly, exchanging a significant glance with the Potions Master.

"I see," Severus said, sounding somewhat concerned now. "And your wife…?"

"At home with the other children, of course. She had rather hoped to bring these three by earlier, but complications arose… you understand."

"Of course," Severus said. "Well, if you need them to stay here…"

The four children exchanged somewhat alarmed glances behind Severus' back.

"Thank you, Severus, I will let you know," Mr. Weasley said, looking truly grateful. "I must be on my way, though."

Severus nodded and opened the door for Mr. Weasley, who promptly exited. He then turned to Harry and pointed down the hall. "I need to speak with you, in the study, now," he said, and strode quickly past Harry.

The others looked at Harry oddly, but he just shrugged and followed.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as the door to the study was closed.

"That is irrelevant," Severus said, shaking his head. "I won't keep you, for I don't want those three little mongrels out there unaccompanied for too long. I do not know how long they will be required to stay here, but I very much doubt that it will be for more than a night. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, after all, and I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will want them home… however, I wish you to stay inside of the house. Do not stray outdoors, and do not floo anyone or attempt to make any other contact with others. Is that understood?"

"I… not really," Harry admitted. "Why can't I know what's going on?"

"Because you are too young-"

"I'm _not _too young. Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"Harry, I'm not going to negotiate this with you-"

"It would mean a lot to me if you would just listen to my reasoning," Harry interrupted again, hoping that perhaps Severus would agree.

Severus stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed. "Fine. You have two minutes."

"Two minutes?"

"In counting."

Harry growled in frustration. Two minutes was a rather small time span for one to make a point. "If, supposedly, I am the one that is supposed to take Voldemort down… don't you think I deserve most of all to know what he's doing?"

"It doesn't all involve Voldemort's activities-"

"Oh no, no loopholes here!" Harry exclaimed. "Death Eaters, Voldemort, fighting, it's all the same these days. I need to know it all…. How can I be prepared for this if I have no idea what they are capable of?"

"Your two minutes are up," Severus said.

"No they are not!"

"Yes, they quite are."

"You said you would listen to me!"

"I did. For two minutes. I've paid my dues."

"Will you at least consider it?"

"Consider what?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on; give a guy a break here!"

Severus paused for a moment, evaluating the level of determination Harry seemed to have on this topic. "Are you going to drop this?"

"No."

"…Harry-"

"Will you at least consider it?"

"You already asked me that."

"And you never answered!"

Severus took a long pause, considering the boy. He was incredibly divided over the issue. He agreed partially with Harry that he needed to know what was going on… but there were certain topics best kept from his knowledge. If he did realize the true terror Voldemort could inflict at this point, he would be too intimidated to put his all into training. He would feel defeated before he even began preparation. Severus could not allow this to happen. On the other hand, if he kept everything from the boy, he was sure to become defiant and go searching out information on his own, drawing the wrong conclusions and getting himself in trouble rather than putting a concentrated effort into priming for the culmination of his and Voldemort's lifelong conflict.

"If I say I will tell you what you need to know, will that pacify you?" Severus proposed, narrowing his eyes.

Harry's expression was similar, but suspicious. "Clarify," he demanded, to receive a warning flash of Severus' eyes. He struggled to keep from rolling his eyes, and rephrased. "What do you mean?" he asked, trying to sound more polite.

Severus arched an eyebrow, but answered him, "I cannot tell you everything, Harry, and you should know that. I can, however, tell you information that may be of use to you… I can attempt to keep you informed."

"How do I know that you won't keep important things from me, like everyone else?" Harry questioned, crossing his arms.

"Who do you know who is quite like me?" Severus replied, smirking. "I have no desire to protect you from the harsh reality that death _happens_. I have no desire to shelter you. I believe those sorts of protection only weaken one's defences. There are certain things, however, that you cannot know- for your safety, for your friends' safety, and for your state of mental health. Credit me with a keen sense of discernment and a purpose to serve your best interests."

Harry looked at Severus for a moment, and then flicked his eyes to the ground. He was glad that Severus was not a sentimental man, for if he had said that without his usual stoicism, Harry might have found himself getting overly emotional over what had just been said to him. He couldn't quite place his finger on why it meant so much to him… but he knew Severus was telling the truth. He was looking out for his best interests, and he was there to help him through everything he would encounter in the near future. It was a comforting and touching thought.

"Harry?"

"Umm, yeah," Harry said, coming out of his reverie and looking back up at Severus. "Yeah, that's exactly… yeah. Thank you."

Severus frowned for a moment, but nodded. "You're welcome," he said slowly, eyeing Harry with an indiscernible glint in his eyes. "Now, you will adhere to the rules I have laid out for you and your friends?"

"Yes," Harry said with a nod.

"See to it that you keep that to that promise," Severus said, raising an eyebrow and widening his narrowed eyes in warning. Harry nodded, and Severus turned and left the study.

Harry watched him walk back down the hallway, and then wondered how on earth the man managed such odd facial expressions. How could someone combine narrowed and widened eyes? He wondered vaguely if he could achieve it, and lowered his chin into the position Severus' head had been in. He narrowed his eyes and arched an eyebrow. Then, like his father did, he kept his lower lids narrowed and lifted the upper ones. For the extra effect, he added a smirk, and holding his face like that, walked to view himself in decorative mirror behind his desk. No… not quite right. He straightened his lips and glared just a bit more… there. That was it.

"Harry? What are you doing?"

Harry quickly spun around, knocking the mirror off the wall in the process and sending it shattering to the ground. He cursed loudly and jumped away from the smashed glass, only to stumble across the nearby chair and fall ungracefully to the wood floor. Laughter ensued.

Harry quickly lifted himself off the ground and regained his footing, running a hand coolly through his hair. "Oh, hey," he said in the most even, normal voice he could manage, sending his friends into even greater peals of laughter. "Stop laughing," he demanded, though he couldn't help but start to laugh himself.

"Oh Harry, we're sorry, it's just… you looked so silly!" Hermione declared, with Ginny nodding emphatically at her side and Ron leaning against the door frame for support as he continued to guffaw.

"So, what _were_ you doing?" Ron choked out between bouts of laughter.

Harry blushed, and admitted sheepishly, "Trying to imitate Sever- my Dad's facial expression."

The use of the word 'dad' seemed to sober Ron enough to keep him from falling to the ground, but his smile did not fade entirely.

"A truly difficult feat," Ginny commented good-humouredly, stepping in and looking around. "This is really nice."

"Yes, the whole house is," Hermione concurred, following suit.

"Thanks," Harry said offhandedly, aiming his wand at the broken glass and muttering, "Reparo."

"How come there are two desks?" Ron asked, looking puzzled.

"Oh, one of them is mine," Harry said, grinning.

"Yours?" Ron repeated, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah, mine. Why?"

Hermione answered for him. "It's rather surprising that Professor Snape would share his study with you, that's all." She paused for a moment, looking around a bit, and then back at Harry. "I thought he would have wanted his privacy."

"Yeah, so did I," Harry agreed. He was somewhat put off by her thinking this, but he tried to brush it off. He had thought the same thing, after all. "But apparently, he doesn't mind."

"It's a rather nice collection of books," Ginny commented from across the room. Harry noted with relief that she got close, but didn't touch anything.

"I can't touch the ones above my grasp," Harry said. "So you shouldn't either, just so you know… but yeah, it is really cool. Sever- my Dad said I could use them, for whatever. I guess I'll get to see some of the darker ones this summer, just so I know what I'm up against."

"He's not going to teach you any Dark Magic, is he Harry?" Hermione asked, looking scandalized as she whirled around to stare accusingly at him.

"You know, just because he was a Death Eater-"

"_Is_ a Death Eater," Ron interrupted.

"You know what, Ron? You can just-"

"Harry!" Ginny stepped forward and gripped his shoulder. "No one meant anything negative about it!"

"Oh? What did they mean then?"

"Maybe you would find out if you stopped jumping to conclusions and interrupting, and just let them speak," Ginny offered gently.

"I only meant that no one can just quit being a Death Eater," Ron said tentatively, his expression wary. "No one walks away from Voldemort's service… no one can until he's defeated."

"Oh…" Harry muttered, feeling slightly stupid for having reacted so strongly.

"And I just wanted to… to make sure… Harry, it's nothing personal against Professor Snape. You know I trust him… just… well, maybe I don't with this. I can't help but worry though, you know."

Harry regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded. "Yeah, I know," he said. "There is only one purpose to me learning any of the Dark Arts. Know thine enemy, right? Anyways, we'll be covering very strong white magic, mostly. Don't worry… he wouldn't steer me wrong."

There was silence for a moment. Ginny smiled at him and went back to inspecting the books, soon to be joined by Hermione. Ron stared at the ground thoughtfully for awhile, still leaning against the doorframe, and Harry hung the mirror back on the wall and sat down in the chair he'd fallen over.

"Harry, I haven't been awful, have I?" Ron asked for a moment, still staring thoughtfully at the ground.

"What do you mean, Ron?" Harry asked guardedly, unsure how to answer.

"I mean… about this whole… thing. With the Professor."

"My Dad?"

"…Yeah… your Dad," Ron said slowly, seemingly testing out the word.

"I don't know," Harry said, rising from his chair, leaning back against the desk, and shrugging. "I… well, your attitude could be improved… but umm…"

"Hermione reckons it's only a matter of time before we end up in another feud over this. I just… I wanted to make sure that didn't happen again…" Ron's gaze never left the ground as he spoke.

"Hermione didn't mention anything to me," Harry said, thinking that he might have liked to be consulted before she'd gone to Ron on his behalf. He had sort of expected it… he just would have liked to have been notified.

"Well, she sort of went off on me the other day…"

"Why?"

"You won't be mad?"

"I… no, I'll be fine. What?"

"I said I was refusing to come here… because of Sn- Professor Snape. She just… lost it on me. I was really angry at first, but… I don't know, I'm sorry if I've been a jerk, okay?"

Harry tried not to laugh, he really did… but Ron's face was as bright as a radish, and at the moment, his tactics of evading any sort of emotion were simply hilarious.

"This isn't funny, okay? I'm laying it on the line here, Harry!" Another snort from Harry's direction. "Harry!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- okay? It's just… never mind. Just, I guess… try to cool it on him, okay?"

"Yeah," Ron said, nodding and making eye contact for the first time. "I'll try to cool it… just tell me when I'm making an arse out of myself."

"Ronald, don't swear or I'll tell mum," came Ginny's singsong voice from the other section of the room, causing Ron to blush again.

"I didn't know they could hear me!" he hissed. "I can't even see them from where I'm standing!"

"People _can_ hear around corners, Ron," Harry said dryly, raising his eyebrows. Ron shook his head and kicked the door, causing Harry to laugh again.

xxx

Dinner was a rather awkward affair that night. At first, Severus' line of thinking had been that he would not be chased away from his own dinner table by a group of teenagers; students, no less. As the evening went on, however, and Hermione attempted to include him in the conversation for the fourth time, he found himself mentally noting never to eat dinner with these four again.

Harry had seemed to enjoy his day, which was perhaps some consolation for Severus' misery. Harry had enthusiastically shown his friends around the house… it had pleased Severus to know that Harry was proud of living here, now, of course, and that he liked the house so. However, he'd spent the entire day stalking in and out of rooms, avoiding the group. He simply had no desire to come into contact with the children.

He was becoming more and more worried that perhaps they would be staying the night after all. He had rather hoped Arthur would return soon… hopefully not Molly, as he rather disliked her. Still, he would face even her to get his house back to its normally peaceful state. It had been only one day, and already he missed his privacy. It was another story when it was only Harry in the house. That didn't feel quite like the invasion he was experiencing now.

Severus discreetly glanced around the table. Ron was quietly shoving food into his mouth, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs. Hermione kept shooting thoughtful glances his way; he knew she was trying to find another way to engage him in conversation. Ginny and Harry were the only two acting normally, which he was rather glad for.

"Miss Weasley," he ventured, lifting his knife and cutting into the meat on his plate. "Have you heard from your parents at all today, by chance?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "But if you want me to, I can just give them a shout through the floo-"

"That won't be necessary," Severus said, shaking his head.

"I'm sure it wouldn't be a problem," Ginny offered tentatively several minutes later. "You really shouldn't have to put us up for the night. I'm sure my mother would feel the same way."

"Oh, undoubtedly she does," Severus replied, a bit more bitingly than he had intended to. Still, he smirked and continued, "She does not hold me in the highest esteem, I am well aware of that fact, Miss Weasley."

"That's not what I meant," the redhead said coldly, glaring at him. All three of her companions' heads turned in her direction.

Severus set down his fork and knife and placed his hands on the edge of the table. "I don't much care for your tone, Miss Weasley."

"Nor I for yours," she replied evenly, mimicking his stance.

Severus' eyes flashed, nostrils flared, and he rose menacingly. "Let me make something clear to you, or anyone else who doubts my authority. Whether at Hogwarts or outside of it, I am still your Professor and demand to be treated as such."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, and opened her mouth, but Ginny threw out a hand to stop her from speaking. "I meant no disrespect, Professor, and I'm sorry if you are taking it that way… but I won't tolerate insults to my family, and I felt that was where you were heading. I would like to continue visiting Harry here, sir, but I'm not sure that will be possible if you keep jumping to conclusions whenever one of us talks. I wanted to clarify that I had not meant anything negative towards you. I simply meant that, having manners, neither I nor my mother would want us to impose."

Ron and Harry were staring at her with widened eyes, and Hermione was frowning with a look that clearly indicated she had wanted to say the same thing. Severus looked somewhat shocked that she would dare speak to him that way. For a moment, he didn't speak, and she watched his face intently. Just as he finally opened his mouth, looking ready to blow, she tugged the napkin out of her lap and politely inquired, "May I use your floo?"

Harry had to admit, it was mildly amusing to see anyone, especially this girl, put Severus out of his element. He was normally so calm and cool when handling students… unless that student had been Harry. She, however, had managed to shock him. He supposed it came from the fact that she was bold, yet somehow, respectful enough to make it difficult for him to find the reason for his anger.

"I… no, you may not!"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "So you're going to refuse to let me talk to my mother?"

Severus scowled at her. "Do not act like I'm holding you prisoner."

"Seems like you are."

Severus opened his mouth to reply, and then snapped it shut again. He glared at her for a moment, and then turned and stormed from the room. The three exchanged looks, until they heard the floo flare from the other room. Several moments later, Severus returned.

"Well, Miss Weasley, it appears that you were correct. Your mother has taken no issue with your returning tonight."

Everything was quiet for a moment. Severus stood in the entryway to the kitchen, looking both angry and smug at the same time, and the four children didn't know quite how to react. Harry was inwardly seething at the rashness of his father. It had been completely unnecessary to drop everything and floo Mrs. Weasley; he was practically throwing his friends out, and only because Ginny had had the boldness to speak her mind and defend herself. He sat at the kitchen table, somewhat dazed, deciding what to do with his anger. Ginny was simply staring at Severus, with an unreadable expression on her face. Hermione and Ron were exchanging glances, though the purpose behind them was unclear.

"So does that mean we're-"

"Leaving? Yes, Mr. Weasley, you are leaving. We enjoyed having you, thank you for stopping by." His voice and expression were completely insincere. "The fireplace is right this way."

Harry shook his head to clear his thought, and rose. "Don't I get some say in this?"

Severus turned and looked at him, raised his eyebrows, and proclaimed a resounding, "No."

Harry clamped his mouth shut and followed the group to the parlour, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side as he walked.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Harry," Hermione said, hugging him and talking as though nothing was out of place. Harry rigidly accepted the hug.

"Yes, thank you for having us," Ginny replied, though she looked just about as grateful as Severus did pleasant.

Ron looked back and forth between Harry and Severus for a moment, and then reached out and shook Harry's hand. "Yeah mate… I'll see you on Boxing Day…" He glanced again at Severus, and added, "If you can still come."

"Oh, he'll be there, Mr. Weasley, have no fear," Severus replied, re-establishing the floo connection. "I'm not going to eat him for breakfast, or anything horrendous like that. He'll make it until the end of the holiday."

"That's not what I meant!"

"I'm sure it's not- and don't raise your voice to me."

"Ron, just go," Ginny said tiredly, motioning towards the floo. Hermione nodded and watched him go through, and followed shortly after.

Ginny waited for Hermione to disappear, and stepped forward. She turned to face Severus for a moment, seemingly debating whether or not to say anything to him. Deciding against it, she turned decisively to Harry and said unsmilingly, "I'll see you again soon, Harry. Take care."

"You too, Ginny," Harry said, equally as stiff. Both nodded to each other, and she disappeared through the floo.

Severus did not have to wait in suspense to see if Harry was angry. The boy immediately rounded on him, glaring fiercely, and cried, "What the hell was that?"

Severus' mouth and eyes widened in mock surprise and he exclaimed, "Language!"

"That was completely unnecessary," Harry proclaimed, ignoring him.

"Yes, I agree," Severus complied easily, walking past Harry and into the hallway.

"I didn't mean the language!" Harry called after him, following.

"Oh," Severus said, continuing on his way. "Well, then I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about how you made them leave like that," Harry clarified irritably, talking to Severus' back as the man refused to stop and converse with him. "You practically threw them out!"

"There was no throwing involved," Severus replied, heading up the stairs.

"They didn't need to leave."

"I was under the impression that they wanted to," Severus said over his shoulder, looking at Harry with raised eyebrows. "If I was mistaken, surely Miss Weasley would have said something. She certainly has no problem with speaking her mind, does she?"

"That's not a crime, you know."

"But it _is_ rather annoying." They reached the top of the stairs, and Severus stalked down the hallway.

"You just don't like my friends," Harry said, glaring at the back of Severus' head. "Are you purposely trying to make sure that they never want to come around again? Do you hate me that much?"

Severus stopped walking abruptly, and said with much less flippancy than before, "You know very well that that is not true, Harry."

Harry continued walking until he was standing about three metres from Severus, and then answered him. "What is it, then? Why are you so determined to hate them?"

"I'm not," Severus said, turning around and frowning deeply.

"Is it because of their House?"

"Harry-"

"_Is it_ because they are in Gryffindor?"

"No, Harry-"

"Is it simply jealousy? Is it because you never had any friends?"

"Harry!"

"Or maybe it's just Ginny! What, do you hate her because she's so like Lily? Because she's almost a carbon copy of your dead ex-wife? Is she an awful reminder, just like I was, of how you scared her away! How she was too terrified to-"

Before Harry could finish the sentence, he found himself slammed and pinned up against the wall with so much force that it knocked the wind out of his lungs.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like this? Of _your mother_ like this?" Severus' voice was a twist of a snarl and an aggrieved choke. For once, his cool mask of indifference was absent from his face, and his eyes projected every awful mixture of anger, pain, and disappointment tearing through him. His hands were tightened bruisingly on Harry's collarbones, crushing him against the wall and mere inches away from his neck. There was no mistake about it; Harry had gone too far. "I have been more than lenient with you! I have been more than generous! When will it be good enough?"

Harry's eyes were blazing, though the infuriation they held did little to mask his apparent fright. Severus' anger was not hindered by this, however. "I'm sor-"

"There is no apology for this," Severus growled, forcibly removing his own hands from Harry and taking a step back. Harry's hands flew to the aching place where Severus' hands had held him, and he raised his accusing eyes to meet Severus. The man was visibly shaking. "Go to your room… I don't want to see you again. Not today."

"Dad-"

"Don't!" Severus snapped, stepping back again. "Just… go!"

Harry swallowed and looked down, now shaking just as Severus was. At Severus' second bark of "Go!" he turned and ran towards his room, intent on avoiding his father for the remainder of his time in the house. This felt… unforgivable… on both of their parts.

He rounded the corner and stopped, leaning back up against the wall for support. He heard Severus' door slam seconds later, and allowed himself to slide down to the floor. He sat there, breathing hard, and could only focus on one thing.

He truly regretted his last remarks… and he was sure there was no way to repair the damage he had done.

xxx End Chapter 36 xxx

AN: 'points at muse' She made me do it!

Thank you to my betas, **Rlmess and Cithara,** for this chappie. Thank you also to **lilsnape/sly/redtoe/Trish** for letting me ramble many ideas all day long to her, until I hit some good ones.

I love you all platonically!


	37. Valediction

Chapter 37

Valediction

xxx

"There is no apology for this."

Holding Harry back against the wall, clenching his shoulders in what he knew was a painful grip, it took Severus a moment to realise what he had done… and another moment to realize why it felt so wrong.

The scary part was that for a moment, it hadn't seemed wrong at all... perhaps because so many similar scenes had played out between him and his father earlier in his life.

This realization did not alleviate Severus' anger, however. If anything, it magnified it. He was angry with Harry for what he had said, and angry at himself for allowing himself to be pushed so far over the edge.

Not trusting himself, Severus forced himself to remove his hands from Harry and took a step back. He didn't have to look down at his hands to know he was shaking, because he was still struggling to contain his rage, and the fact that such irrepressible rage had manifested scared him more than anything. Harry's eyes were trained on him, his expression betrayed, vulnerable, and yet, infuriatingly defiant, causing another surge of rage in Severus.

"Go to your room," Severus barked, struggling to control his volume. He had to remove the boy from his sight, before anything else happened. "I don't want to see you again. Not today."

"Dad-"

Another flare of pain crossed Harry's face as he said this, and the image of Harry crying this word out before Severus' fist connected with his jaw flashed through Severus' mind. "Don't!" Severus snapped, stepping back again. "Just… go!"

He watched as the boy lowered his head, clearly stung, and didn't move. Another upwelling of severe irritation, and Severus knew he could take no more. "Go!" he barked again, unable to let himself walk away before seeing Harry obey him, yet worried that if one of them did not leave, he would make things far worse.

Harry turned and ran down the hall, leaving Severus standing there, battling with the torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. As he watched Harry flee, his rage ebbed away into an acute sensation of loss; something akin to grief. His eyes widened as he realized the magnitude of this situation; he raised his hand and ran it down his face, shaking his head. How could he have lost control so quickly? How could he have thrown away all the trust Harry had built up in him over something as meaningless as a few offensive remarks made in the heat of a teenage temper-tantrum? The boy had undoubtedly crossed the line, yes… but Severus could remember being a child, and feeling that there was no offence that deserved abuse from a parent. He hadn't severely hurt Harry… but he was on that path, if he did not fix this.

How could he have allowed himself to lose control this way? Even if only for a moment, he knew exactly whose example he'd been following when he'd thrown his son against the wall.

It took a moment for the rage and sorrow to give way to shock, and for that shock to wear off and morph into something resembling intense self-hatred. Severus heard Harry's heavy breathing down the hall; the boy had only turned the corner. However, Severus could not bring himself to go down there and continue the feud, so rather than going to him, he turned and stalked to his room. He reached it quickly, and jerked the door open, stepping inside and slamming it behind him.

Once inside, it took him a moment to regain his senses. He brought both hands up to his head and fisted them in his own hair, and stalked across the room to his window. He brought his hands down to rest on the windowsill, and looked out over his gloomy gardens. Shoulders hunched, he dropped his head, and stood there, simply breathing and concentrating on the rising and falling of his chest. Years as a Death Eater turned light had taught him that anger and self-repudiation did little for one's functioning skills. He would get nothing solved if he did not at least calm down. He knew the feelings would return periodically throughout the day, and maybe even the week, but he had to decide what to do, and quickly. He had seen the anger in Harry's eyes; the boy was likely to do something rash.

Several minutes later, the slamming of Harry's door shook him from his meditative state. He turned his head to look at the door leading to Harry's room, and instantly locked it from where he stood, just in case. He couldn't face Harry right now, for fear that either his feelings of guilt or rage would completely overwhelm his senses. Neither could produce a positive result.

Watching the door for a moment and listening intently for loud crashes or other noises in the next room, he wondered just how far _Harry _felt he had taken it. Perhaps growing up with those relatives of his… perhaps he thought very little of this sort of thing. Perhaps this was forgivable.

As soon as the possibility of forgiveness entered Severus' mind, it instantly retreated. He didn't deserve to be forgiven. The fact that Harry had been abused before only made what Severus had done ten times worse. He had hurt a child who had already experienced pain at the hands of the adults in charge of him. He could only imagine what sort of psychological damage this was doing.

The fact also existed that even if he was forgiven, he couldn't promise that this wouldn't happen again. As much as he would have liked to, Severus could no longer guarantee that Harry was safe with him. He had obviously never thought he would lose control like that, or he would not have asked Harry to come stay with him for the holidays.

Severus cringed at this thought. He had promised that he would control his temper! He had made a promise to his son that he would try, even at the beginning! He had made a promise to himself that he would never act in any way resembling his father… and here he stood, still shaking from his violent encounter with his son. His son, who was sitting in the next room, who had probably placed silencing charms on his room to ensure that Severus could not hear him… was he crying? Was he throwing his belongings about in a fit of rage?

Was he packing his trunk?

Was he sitting, huddled up in the corner, watching his door intently and listening for footsteps, as Severus had done so many times as a boy?

Severus sincerely hoped not.

Was he calling someone for help? Did he feel unsafe now? Severus had seen the betrayal on his face. He had seen it there, as plain and obvious as the daylight breaking after night. In fact, he could see it now; he could remember every look in Harry's eyes, and it struck him somewhere deep. It felt like a blow to the chest; perhaps the same way Harry had felt when he'd been thrown up against that wall.

Severus could only be thankful that he hadn't actually taken a swing at the boy, but could he guarantee that he wouldn't in the future? He had never expected this to happen. How was he to know that something worse wouldn't eventually occur?

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe everyone who thought Harry wasn't safe with him had been right.

Not only was Severus a danger to himself, he was a danger to everyone around him, and that now included Harry. He had hurt his wife, and now their child. Whereas his son had a saving-people thing, Severus clearly had a hurting-people thing. This was an unfortunate combination between the two of them, especially considering they shared so many other traits.

He cared for Harry, of that he was certain. He wouldn't be having these stabbing pains in his chest if it weren't for that fact, and he would still be violently angry, not sick to his stomach and weary. Not mortified at his actions. Not penitent.

Therefore, he had to do what was best for the boy… he had to contact Albus Dumbledore.

xxx

If Harry's probable hatred of him and his own feelings of shame and disgust hadn't been bad enough, Dumbledore's disappointment in him surely topped it all. He hadn't seen the man look so stricken in quite some time, and he hadn't been spoken to so coldly since long before he'd joined the Order.

His saving grace was that he was willing to make a sacrifice to do what was best for Harry. His confession had been his only absolution. He had explained himself well, he had thought. He had tried, he truly had; but Albus and Lily had been right, after all. He wasn't father material. He wasn't husband material. He wasn't anything to anyone, really. It was disheartening, but he would get used to the notion again. He had done it before, he could do it again. He had to; this was obviously the only good thing he could do for his son.

The night's rest that Severus had given the two of them to cool down before they talked had done little good on Severus' end. If anything, he was feeling more awful when he woke up the next morning. He took the long way to Harry's room, simply because it gave him more time to mentally prepare himself. The boy would probably be relieved… and he knew that if he did not prime himself for this, it would surely break him.

Severus reached the door in less time than he had hoped for, and knocked reservedly. No answer came.

"Harry, I need to speak with you," he called through the door. "I know you're in there."

Inside, Harry looked over his shoulder at the door, features drawn into an expression of worry and contemplation. He didn't want to face his father right now; he wasn't sure when he would. The man had been positively irate the previous night; it was hardly possible that he had simply calmed down while he slept. If there was one thing he knew about Severus, it was that no one could hold a candle to his ability to hold a grudge. He doubted very much that Severus had forgiven him for what he had said, or had any remorse over how he had treated Harry.

Harry turned his head back to the window, relaxing his facial features and trying to remain calm, in case Severus decided to intrude. He masked the bitter anger, the betrayal, and the apprehension. He couldn't betray what he was feeling; the sheer vulnerability that would result was more than Harry could handle.

"Harry, you can open this door, or I will open it myself," Severus said evenly, hoping the boy didn't know many good locking charms. He really did not want to have to deconstruct any barriers at the moment.

Still, no answer came. Severus sighed resignedly, and pulled out his wand. A simple unlocking charm did it; the door swung open easily.

Harry was sitting on his bed, staring out the window with his back to the door.

"Harry?" Severus questioned, stepping into the room.

There was silence for several moments. Severus stood, staring at his son's back, and Harry refused to move even a muscle. His shoulders barely even heaved with his inhalation and exhalation; Severus got the impression that he was still feeling rather shocked, and more than a little depressed.

When Harry finally spoke, his voice was extremely hoarse. Whether from crying or yelling, Severus could not tell. "I have bruises," he said flatly, refusing to look at Severus.

Severus instantly recoiled, wincing and closing his eyes against the stinging sensation that suddenly occurred. He wanted to go to him, apologize over and over again… but he could not do that. He could not beg for forgiveness which he did not deserve, and his pride was too great to debase himself before his son.

"I never intended it to go so far," Severus said after a moment.

"Yeah, neither did I," Harry said in the same monotonous tone. "But that doesn't really excuse my actions, either."

"You _were_ out of line," Severus conceded. "However, I am not here to make excuses. Surely you realize that?"

"Whatever you say, Severus," Harry said tiredly. He was really too bitter to sit there and allow Severus to apologize. He wasn't ready to forgive him, and he wanted the man to realize that he was still angry without having to take the risk of unleashing his anger to get that point across. He was… tired of caring. He didn't want to work at this anymore.

Severus recognized that tone of voice. It was that of a person who was admitting defeat. "You do deserve better than this, Harry."

For the first time, Harry turned his head, glaring at Severus over his shoulder. "Says who? Even the people who care the most for me can't give me better. It seems if I deserved it, it would be made possible."

"I intend to make it possible."

"Oh, like you did before?"

"No, quite differently," Severus said as stoically as possible, bracing himself and coming around to stand at the foot of the bed.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I spoke with Albus."

"You _told _him about this?"

Swallowing some of his pride, Severus admitted, "I didn't know what else to do. I simply… I want what is best for you, Harry."

The flat tone of voice which with he spoke was not very convincing, this he knew, but he couldn't quite conjure the emotion which he knew ought to accompany such words. It was not in his nature to do so.

"Which is?"

"Clearly, not me."

"Meaning?"

"Albus has agreed to let you stay at his home with Lupin and him for the remainder of the holiday," Severus said, not quite meeting Harry's eyes. "I'm sure you will find your time with them rather more enjoyable than here with me."

Harry turned his lip up, and looked at Severus with an expression rivalling disgust. "So you're giving up, then?"

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the complexity of-"

"I'm the one who got thrown up against a wall, Severus! If anyone here understands how that's affected me, I think it would be _me._"

"You did not grow up the way I did!" Severus retaliated, rounding angrily on Harry. How dare the boy suggest he did not understand the effects of growing up with such a person as himself?

"You are not your father!" Harry cried, shooting up from his bed. Not for the first time, Severus was reminded strongly of Lily. It both amazed and horrified him, considering what they had gone through together. "The only reason you keep behaving like him is because you believe it's inevitable!"

"Did you learn nothing from last night, you foolish child? Do I seem like the type of man you ought to live with?"

Harry opened his mouth wide as if to retort nastily, but seemingly thought better of it at the last moment. He stared at Severus for a moment, before finally throwing his hands up in defeat. "Fine," he snapped. "Send me away. If that's the way you want it, I'm not going to stop you. I'm not even sure I care anymore. If you really want me gone that badly… you could have just said so in the first place, without going through last night's whole ordeal."

"That is not what last night was about, and you know it."

"Whatever," Harry said dispassionately, moving across the room and beginning to pull his things out of his drawers, throwing them into a pile in the centre of the room.

"Harry, you know I would not _send_ you away," Severus said with a touch of irritation to his voice. "I have told you I enjoy your company."

"Then why are you doing this?"

Severus folded his hands in front of him, and said with some indifference, "I believe you should have the choice."

"The choice?" Harry repeated blankly, raising his eyebrows. Somewhere inside, he had the idea that Severus would not even offer if this was not what he wanted; for Harry to leave. He was a Slytherin, after all. He wouldn't do this if it weren't for his advantage. He didn't like having the stress of handling a difficult teen, and now that they were away from school, he had realised what he had taken on. Just as Harry had predicted he would.

"Albus has informed me that someone will be here to gather you within the hour," Severus said. "I am sorry for such short notice, but I rather assumed you would be more enthused about leaving. If you decide to stay… I'll be around the house."

Severus turned to leave, and stopped at the door. "I really do regret this not having worked… I suppose, considering our background, it was unavoidable. I should apologize for my lack of foresight… and self-control. I truly hope you do not inherit such traits."

Harry did not turn around at this, nor did he say anything before Severus left. Was _that _his idea of an apology, or simply another push to get Harry out the door?

Well, if that was what Severus wanted, then that was what Harry would give him. He would not inflict his presence upon the man any longer.

As angry as Severus contacting Dumbledore made him, he had to admit that perhaps it was for the best. He had been surprised with himself, as well, the previous night.

He wasn't doing Severus any good by being here, and Severus wasn't doing him much, either. It would be awkward when they got back to school, granted, but it was best that they ended this charade now, before things got out of hand.

But had it been a charade? Harry had developed a certain fondness for the man over time; that much was certain, and he didn't think Severus was the type to feign caring for him. It wasn't logical.

Harry looked around his room. He would be sorry to say goodbye to it. Even if he'd only spent two days in it, it had been a nice place to stay. Luckily, he hadn't had much time to spend thinking about the future he would have staying in this room, or the house.

It was best not to think of that now.

Harry sighed. In all likelihood, Severus was right; he needed to leave. Severus wasn't his father, (at least, from what Harry could tell. He didn't know much about Severus' childhood, but he knew Severus' father had been awful,) but maybe his behaviour the previous night had been a sign that Harry needed to leave.

Still, this felt like capitulation. They had tried so hard… they had both promised that this wouldn't happen. Was Harry ready to leave behind everything he had developed with Severus because of one incident? He was a risk taker, and perhaps it was going against the laws of his nature to give up now. Perhaps he needed to take the chance.

If it had been as simple as what Harry wanted, he knew what choice he would make. He would stay. He would try again. He would apologize for his actions and hope that his father welcomed him with open arms… but then, this was Snape. Professor Snape. Was he the sort of man to graciously take him back with a simple apology? Did he even want Harry around anymore?

Pondering this, Harry moved his trunk out from the corner of the room and began tossing his crumpled up clothes into it. Gradually, his tosses became more and more forceful, until he was throwing them in with such fury that he could hear the _thump _of each article piling onto the next. Soon after that, the furious throwing of various items had nothing to do with packing, so much as finding some outlet for this emotion. His throat was tightening, and his eyes watering. Why had this happened? Why had it come to this?

Finishing his packing, purposely leaving his room in an uproarious state, and flinging the top of his trunk shut, he stared at it for a moment and then flung himself onto his bed. He ran his fingers through his hair and tugged at the back of his head. How could Severus ask him to make this decision? It wasn't fair.

Harry was not sure how long he lied on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands fisted in his hair, but it wasn't long before he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. He sat up and stared at the door. Those weren't the widely spaced footsteps of his father; those were the even, light footsteps of another familiar person.

It took Harry a few moments to register what this meant. One, Severus was not with him, from the sound of it. He obviously didn't want to see Harry before he left… well, that was just fine. Two… this meant he was leaving.

Harry slowly slid off his bed and went to his trunk, jadedly clasping it shut and reducing its size so that it would be easier to carry.

"Harry?" Harry instantly recognized Lupin's voice drifting in through the crack in the door. The sound both soothed and shocked him to his senses. It was comforting to hear the voice of an old, understanding friend- yet under the circumstances, it was almost more discomfiting than calming. He straightened, waiting for him to come in. He could not seem to make his voice work, so he hoped that Lupin would take the liberty to simply enter.

"Harry?" Lupin questioned again, stepping inside. Harry turned and opened his mouth to say something, but all he could manage was an awkward squeak and a shift of the eyes. Now that reality was hitting him… well, the short while ago when Severus had told him the Headmaster was sending someone to pick him up, it had seemed surreal. Almost like an idle threat.

Apparently, Severus had been very serious.

Lupin watched Harry for a moment, and then made a sympathetic, throaty murmur of sorts and moved towards him, enveloping him in his shabbily robed arms. He rubbed the boy's back, saying, "I'm sorry things had to turn out this way, Harry."

Though Harry leaned into the comforting embrace, some part of his mind wanted to step back and protest. Maybe… maybe… things didn't have to turn out this way. This was really a very drastic solution to a problem which, in retrospect, wasn't so awful. After all, he had endured worse in the past.

Lupin stepped back and examined Harry, and then gave him a soft smile. "Come on," he said gently, giving Harry a benevolent pat on the shoulder and picking up his trunk. "We should go."

Harry nodded numbly and followed Lupin down the hallway, trying to mentally shut out the voice that was screaming at him to stop walking. He was… angry at Severus, right? He had been all morning. The man had overstepped his boundaries.

But then again, just what were those boundaries? Harry frowned at this thought. He had overstepped his boundaries as well. He'd said awful things, he knew. Up until now, he had pushed that fact to the back of his mind, but the truth of the matter was that he could be just as much as fault as Severus was. And he still didn't know how the man felt about this; he had been too angry to allow him to truly apologize.

Harry came to a realization, then. He could not just walk out of this house without speaking to Severus.

Yes, what Severus had done had shown poor judgment. Yes, it had hurt Harry. But was he willing to walk away from all of this simply because his father had trouble containing his rage _one time_ out of the thousands he could have lost it?

It didn't seem right to abandon the man now.

If he stayed, the worst thing that could happen was that Severus could mistreat him again. He had been mistreated in the past; he could survive a few episodes here and there. And unlike his past mistreatments, Severus seemed genuinely sorry for what he had done. No, he had not gushed sentimentalities and begged for forgiveness. Yes, he was making another mistake by sending Harry away, but that could be linked to one thing that Harry knew was true about Severus.

He had avoidance issues. Just as Harry had done to him, he was pushing the boy away. Perhaps in his mind, this seemed like a good idea… but Harry knew different.

At least, he thought he did. And his intuition had never let him down before.

"Professor Snape thought it would be best if you did not have to see him before you left," Lupin said as they approached the entrance hallway, apparently seeing Harry's frantic eyes dart about the house, looking for the man. "You don't have to fear him, Harry. He's not angry with you for leaving… he just wants what is best for you, I'm sure." His voice was subdued and doubtful, as though he was trying very hard to contain what he was bursting to say.

Harry shook his head and opened his mouth, only to be smothered in a second embrace. "It's alright, Harry," the man said into the top of his head. "It's alright."

Lupin pulled back again and opened the door, taking Harry by the elbow and guiding him out.

"Professor," Harry started uneasily, glad to have regained his voice, but sick at the prospect of both leaving and staying. It was a bad situation with only bad choices to be made… but he couldn't live regretting not having stayed.

"Perhaps we should save conversation for Dumbledore's home, Harry," Lupin said stiffly, looking rather wary. He obviously thought Harry was about to go into an angry tirade about Severus, from the way he was surveying the area surrounding them, as though they were being watched.

They were about halfway down the path, now, and Harry craned his neck to look back at the house. "I can't do this," he whispered, trying to shrug off Lupin's grip on his arm.

"Of course you can, Harry," Lupin said soothingly. "We're almost to the end of the path, and then we can apparate."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head and trying to step back. "You don't understand. I can't do this to him. He needs me!"

"For what, Harry?"

"To show him that he's not the monstrosity of a man he thinks he is," Harry said, finally shaking off the older man's grip and turning back towards the house.

Lupin's hand caught his shoulder, and he felt himself being gently tugged back. "Harry, I beg you to give this deeper thought. If this becomes a pattern, can you say your life will be happy?"

"He's been better to me than any of the other adults in my life," Harry replied with an almost pleading quality to his voice. "He cares about me, and I care about him. I can't just ignore that. He deserves the chance."

"Harry," Lupin said more insistently, reaching out and grabbing him by both shoulders. He looked both hurt and distressed, perhaps due in part to Harry's slight on the adults in his life. "You know I can't let you do this. You're confused and caught in a bad situation; you don't know what you want-"

"What I want is to go home," Harry negated, shaking his head and pulling back. He was afraid that he was going to be kept from returning. All he wanted to do was run back to the house, talk to Severus- find out if he really wanted him gone, or if he was just making a poor attempt at nobility.

xxx

Severus watched from his room as Harry followed Lupin down the path from his house. His breathing was quickened, and he was disquieted by the fact that his senses were reacting to Harry's leaving more strongly than he had expected. He felt slightly light-headed, and his throat was throbbing. His hands were shaking for some unknown reason, and he could not find a way to cure these ailments.

He simply told himself, over and over again, that this was the best thing for Harry. He had been given the choice, and this was what he wanted… not that Severus blamed him. Yes, admittedly, every time he'd heard even the faintest noise, some small part of him had hoped that Harry was going to come through the door and tell him that he wanted to stay. Some part of him wanted to go down there and demand that Harry stay.

But he couldn't ask that of the boy. Not when he'd already given him the choice. He wasn't _that_ cruel.

Severus watched for several moments, until something became apparent to him. Harry was trying to come back to the house, and the werewolf was stopping him. He froze for a moment. If he wanted to come back, then that was his choice! That had been the point of this!

He watched Lupin turn his boy around by the shoulders, and he had had enough. If Harry wanted to leave, that was fine- but he would not have the last marauder come and steal him away. It was his son's choice, not Lupin's.

xxx

Harry was not able to get a word in edgewise with the Lupin, who was insistently tugging him along the path, trying to reason with him. "-telling you, it will do you no good to stay-"

"Professor, please-"

"-at the very least, give yourself some time to decide-"

"-you don't understand-"

"Harry, I understand perfectly, but-"

"No!" Harry shouted, wrenching his hand from Lupin's grasp once again. "I can't just leave, I-"

"Harry-"

"I just want to talk to my Dad! I want to stay!"

"Harry," Lupin despairingly said again, placing two gentle hands on the boy and shaking his head. Harry struggled against him. He knew the man had good intentions and that he was simply following instructions to collect him; he knew what he was trying to tell him, but he had to at least find out if he was even wanted here. Harry tried harder to pull away, but Lupin held on with oddly tender strength. "Just come to Dumbledore's home. Give yourself a week's time, and then make your decision. I promise no one will stop you then."

Harry stopped struggling. So no one would force him to leave forever; that was something. Still, he didn't want to leave in the first place. He mumbled something under his breath, and Lupin gave him a questioning look. Knowing he would be questioned anyways, he repeated himself, "But that means I'll miss Christmas here," he said, mentally kicking himself for sounding so young.

Lupin's expression softened into a look of pity that quite perturbed Harry. "Listen- I know this is cruel… I know your whole life has been. Still, this is just another… bump in the road, you could say-"

"More like a gaping hole," Harry muttered, glaring off to the side.

"I understand, but-"

"No!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands down at his sides and stepping back. "You don't understand anything! You just don't get it!" He knew his anger was getting out of hand. He knew he ought to stop here… but he couldn't. Rationality wasn't getting his point across. He knew Lupin had the best intentions, but that didn't mean he could sit there and accept everything he was being told.

It was evident by his expression that Lupin's patience was disappearing. He looked frustrated by Harry's outbursts- and Harry couldn't have cared less. Harry opened his mouth to shout again, and Lupin finally seemed to break. "Do you remember why I had reservations about letting him into your life? Because I knew he would hurt you! I knew it would come to this! You didn't listen to me then, and look where it got you. At least listen to me now."

"No, I want to sta-"

"Harry!" Lupin's tone was an uncharacteristically frustrated bark that seemingly should have been followed by a short tirade, or lecture at the very least. However, Lupin said nothing, and his gaze shifted to the distance behind Harry.

"If the boy wants to stay," Severus' commanding voice declared, punctuating the silence that Lupin's muteness had left, "Then he stays."

Harry whirled around to see Severus striding (surprisingly both indignantly and elegantly, for all the unevenness of the ground) down the path towards Harry and Lupin.

Severus reached them shortly, and looked back and forth between them with a level expression. After a moment he straightened his frock coat and said evenly, "Well, Lupin, I suppose I should congratulate you. You really wasted no time in getting around to slandering me, did you? Well, at least you're on top of things. Glad to see you haven't come into that nasty habit of procrastination. But really, right on my very property? You couldn't have waited until you'd at least passed the gates?"

"If you must know, Severus," Lupin said with equal calmness, meeting the other man's gaze, "I was simply attempting to dissuade Harry from making a ghastly mistake… again. And yes, before you say anything, I do regard coming to live with you as being a ghastly mistake."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, but Harry's quick movement at his side stopped him. He looked down questioningly, and saw a worried look on his son's face. "Please don't argue," Harry said quietly, looking down. "Can we just go back up to the house?"

Severus looked to Lupin, and then back to Harry. The boy looked tired, apprehensive… almost broken. He supposed he had already put the boy through enough… this was not too great request for him to acquiesce to. After a moment of hesitation, he nodded, and was rewarded with the relief that shone on Harry's face. He looked back to Lupin, and stiffly said, "Good day, Lupin."

The other man looked both surprised and slightly irritated by this. He shook his head slightly, as if in awe, and said to Harry, "You're sure this is what you want?"

Harry nodded, but said nothing. No, he wasn't sure, and he knew his uncertainty would show in his voice. However, this was something he had to do. He couldn't simply leave. Not on these terms.

Lupin nodded again; Harry could tell he was unhappy about this decision, but with Severus standing here, he wasn't going to stop him. However, the defiance in the werewolf's expression when he looked to Severus gave warning to the protective feelings fuelling him. He took a step forward, closer to Severus, and said quietly, "I will speak to Dumbledore about this. Undoubtedly, he'll feel you should be given a second chance… but I swear it; if you hurt Harry again, I will personally see that there will be hell to pay. He's been through enough. Don't you dare make it worse."

There were a million sharp retorts at the tip of Severus' tongue, and it took every ounce of self control he possessed to hold them in. Still, he was keenly aware of Harry's presence at his side, and he would do as he'd been asked… for Harry, and no one else. Certainly, he could sacrifice the satisfaction it would give him to put Lupin in his place in order to start regaining Harry's trust. "As I said… Good day, Lupin."

The bitterness behind Lupin's carefully controlled expression was almost as satisfying as any retort might have been, Severus found. He was careful to keep the smirk off of his face as he turned away from the other man and started walking up the path to his house. He was aware of the fact that Lupin had not left, but he wasn't about to turn around. To do so would most likely result in a loss of self control… and he'd been doing very well up to this point, he felt.

"Thank you for coming," Harry said very quietly as they approached the doors.

Severus winced, and he shook his head. "Don't thank me," he said, in an equally as soft voice. "I'm a bit surprised you wished to spare your… friend… when you had seemed so angry with him only a few moments ago… but I did nothing deserving of gratitude."

Harry shrugged. "He was just trying to help… but he doesn't know how. I still don't want you two to fight." He paused for a moment as Severus opened the doors and admitted them entrance, and then asked, "How did you guess that I was angry with him?"

"I was watching," Severus admitted, stopping in the middle of the foyer. "From my room… I saw."

"Oh," Harry said, looking down again. Did this mean that perhaps Severus really hadn't wanted him to stay after all? Had he simply been so angered by Lupin that he had intervened? Had he-

"I'm glad you wanted to stay," Severus said quickly, averting his eyes to the other side of the room. He kept his gaze steady with the opposite wall as he continued. "I never intended for you to think I wanted you to leave."

Harry was seized by a sudden surge of warmth at this, but he kept himself from reacting. He couldn't… he just couldn't. There was too much to be discussed to become overjoyed by this information… his bliss could be too easy transformed into despondency.

Harry nodded reservedly, and without quite meeting Severus' eyes, said, "I think there are some things we need to talk about."

Severus never would have thought it possible that he would feel any amount of respect for this child. In his earlier years, he had always considered him to be the worst sort of child; impertinent, impulsive, negligent of the rules, and wholly committed to defiance. Even as he'd become accustomed to feeling a certain amount of affection towards the boy, even as he had seen the better side of his personality, he rarely felt respect for his son. However, this was one of those rare moments. Harry wasn't ignoring him, nor was he defying him. He wasn't avoiding the problem, and he wasn't overreacting to it… he was being rational, and wisely keeping his guard up. That was not to say that Severus intended to hurt him again… it merely showed good judgment, a principle that Severus could soundly respect.

"I quite agree," Severus found himself saying softly. He felt a bit ridiculous for avoiding looking at the boy's face, but he wasn't sure he could help it. He kept expecting to see that same betrayed expression that had graced his features so frequently in the past few days… and twisted around Lily's eyes, the expression quite reminded him of her reaction to the way he'd treated her all those years ago. It was more than unsettling. It was almost disturbing.

"Maybe the study?" Harry suggested, frowning in thought.

Severus didn't much like the idea of being stuck in that small room to have this conversation. He needed somewhere he could roam, and physically busy himself to ease the disquiet that was likely to settle between them. "Perhaps the grounds," Severus countered, reaching for his cloak.

If the thought of sitting in the study and talking to Severus hadn't seemed depressing enough upon speculation, wandering the grounds which were overlade with various dead plants sounded twice as unappealing. "I'd really rather not go out there," he said, causing Severus to stop mid-reach and look at him. The man was clearly surprised that Harry was objecting… perhaps he was not yet used to it. Harry normally went along with what he said.

With difficulty, Severus returned his hand to his side. Instinctively, he wanted to tell Harry it wasn't his place to decide where they talked… but he supposed he would need to get out of his completely authoritarian mindset if he and Harry were to make this work. Now was not the time to dictate. He had to listen.

Severus sighed. At this moment, he rather wished they were back at Hogwarts. Both of them had become comfortable with his quarters there, and this was still new territory for them. The house was so large, with such varying styles, that it was difficult to make a decision. Finally, Severus nodded and waved for Harry to follow him. They walked through the parlour and into the adjoining room.

"Better?" he asked, once they were in there. Harry nodded and went over to one of the couches, folding himself in half and sinking into it. He was somewhat glad to find that it resembled the couch in Severus' quarters in Hogwarts… the familiarity was comforting.

Severus sighed again and sat down in the chair across from him. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation, and from the look on Harry's face, neither was he.

"How to start?" Harry said quietly, tucking his knees up next to his torso and draping his arm across them.

Severus watched him for a moment. Harry had spoken his mental query. How would they start?

"I'm not willing to say that I overreacted last night," Severus said after a moment. His expression was serious, but not foreboding or reprimanding. He kept his gaze level with the ground. "I was harsh… and I do not believe my conduct was appropriate, but what you said was beyond reproach."

"That's not an excuse," Harry said, eyes hardened. He was willing to admit that he was wrong… but he knew that every time he allowed Severus to justify his behaviour, he would only be kindling the flame.

Severus narrowed his eyes and looked up at Harry. "It's not your place to tell me what is and is not an excuse," he said. As much as he agreed, he could not allow this boy to believe he was in control. Perhaps that sense of security had been what had led to his outburst.

"I know," Harry said simply, looking completely unapologetic. "But… I need you to know that I don't want to go back to my old way of life. I want this to work… but if you think this is okay, then I don't think it's going to. I need you to… I don't know, meet me halfway on this. This isn't about who's right and who's wrong, because really, we are both wrong in this situation."

"You take responsibility for your part in this, then?" Severus asked, raising his eyebrows. Again, Harry was demonstrating more responsibility than he had grown accustomed to him displaying in the last five years.

Harry nodded stiffly. "I do," he said calmly. "But… I'm not sure you do."

Severus exhaled and brought his hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. How could he express to this boy how he regretted his actions, without throwing himself at the teen's feet?

"I am not accustomed to tact, Harry, by any means," Severus said.

Harry frowned, unsure of what the older man meant. Severus watched his expression and then nodded resignedly, continuing.

"I do not do well with other people's emotions... I concentrate more effort into my own. I am normally a man of great self restraint. It is necessary that I keep firm control over my every emotion throughout the course of every day… but you must realize that this makes me painfully aware of what I am feeling when I cannot suppress those emotions. When I feel true pain or rage, I feel it to the fullest extent… and it is not habitual to consider how this affects others. For a long time, I have hardly cared what my fits of pique and violent uproars have done to others- I always knew that the extent of the damage I could cause to those who cared very little for me was limited. I'm afraid it's been quite the adjustment, changing that state of mind. Clearly, I have not yet succeeded in doing so. Last night, when you were shouting at me… not only was it highly disrespectful, a behaviour which I am inclined to react strongly to in the first place, but also… the mention of your mother… it was uncalled for, Harry, and showed very poor judgment."

Harry nodded, glad that Severus was at least making an attempt to explain himself. It made it much easier for him to talk to the man if he knew how he felt.

"I suppose we both felt a bit betrayed last night," Harry said a moment later.

Severus was about to agree when they heard the floo flare from the other room. Dumbledore's unmistakable voice called for Severus, and he looked across the room to Harry.

"You should go see what he wants," Harry said, nodding towards the other room.

"I know what he wants," Severus said, rising. "And I can guess I won't be back any time soon… but we will continue this discussion when I return."

Harry nodded silently, secretly glad for this. It would be nice to have some time alone in the house, to sort out his thoughts and feelings of regret, shame, and distress. Severus' presence made him uneasy, especially with the unbalanced state of his emotions. He needed some time to wind down and digest what he and Severus had spoken about thus far.

From the doorway, Severus watched Harry for a moment. He was still unsure how they would repair this tear to the delicate armour holding their relationship together. Still, it was progress that they were able to talk it over… it was more than he'd ever been able to do as a child, and he was sure this was a good sign.

Dumbledore's insistent voice beckoned again, and Severus regretfully moved from the doorway. Not only was he irritated by the interruption (after all, he felt that he and Harry had been having a meaningful, albeit uncomfortable, discussion), but also, he was worried about what Albus would have to say to him. He knew he could not be forced to leave Harry in Albus' care, but the Headmaster certainly knew how to put a person to shame. He'd already explained himself to Dumbledore once, and he really didn't want to have to go through this all over again. The man had been fairly lenient when he'd known Severus was ready to release the boy to his care… but how would he react to this new development? If he wanted Harry out of there, Severus knew he would do everything he could to make that happen.

"Headmaster," Severus soberly greeted the head in his fireplace as he stepped into the room.

"I think you and I need to talk, Severus," Dumbledore said, tilting his chin forward and frowning up at Severus.

"I thought you might say that," Severus said tiredly, stepping forward. "Well, move back, I'm coming through."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows as if to say, _there's no need to be rude, _but said nothing. After a moment, his face had disappeared from the fireplace. Bracing himself, Severus stepped into the illuminated fireplace.

When Severus' arrived in Dumbledore's home, he was not surprised to see Lupin standing not far behind the older man. "Don't you think we could have this discussion without _him_?" Severus asked, irritably jerking his head towards Lupin.

Dumbledore gave Severus a vaguely irritated expression. "Severus, please, be civil. Remus is just as involved in this as you and I are-"

"Only because you made it so," Severus reminded him through clenched teeth, set on edge by the positively poisonous glares Lupin was directing his way. What right did this man have to act like the protector of _his _child?

"I should remind you that it was you who created the circumstances which made my involvement necessary," Lupin said evenly, visibly forcing himself to relax his face into a more calm expression to match his voice.

"Your involvement is never necessary, Lupin, you just pretend it is to make yourself feel important. Just like Black was in the days before his death- searching recklessly for some sort of purpose. I would advise caution- you would not want to contribute to some sort of pattern-"

"Are you threatening me?"

Severus dropped his jaw in mock offence. "I would never."

"Severus, Remus!" Dumbledore sharply reprimanded the two of them, staring furiously at each in turn. "How are we to discuss the issue of the child if you are both acting like children yourselves?"

While Severus glowered crossly at both Lupin and Dumbledore, Lupin set his jaw and said with strained composure, "You're absolutely right, Headmaster."

Severus wanted to roll his eyes. Of course, Lupin was going to act like the golden child… _ahem_, adult, and make Severus out to be the worst of the two. Well, Severus would have none of that. "My apologies, Headmaster," he said, suppressing his infuriation with Lupin. "We were out of line."

"Quite," Dumbledore conceded, nodding. "Now, can we perhaps discuss this as gentlemen?"

"I'm perfectly amenable to that," Severus said coolly. "You might want to enquire the same of Lupin. He seems a bit irascible today, if you ask me. Must be his time of the month," he added as an afterthought, inwardly smirking.

"Severus, really-" Lupin started irritably. Severus put his hands up and shook his head.

"I was merely referring to your lycanthropy problem," Severus said mildly, raising his eyebrows into an expression of clearly feigned innocence.

"We are not here to discuss Remus, are we, Severus?"

"No," Severus admitted, folding his arms and sighing. He sincerely wished in this moment that Lupin was not present. It was the only thing hindering him from having a real discussion with the Headmaster.

Dumbledore studied Severus for a moment, and then, as though he had read Severus' mind, turned to Lupin. "Perhaps Severus and I should speak first," he said decisively.

"Headmaster, I really think-"

"Remus, please," Dumbledore said gently, gesturing towards the door.

"Honestly, arguing with the Headmaster," Severus chided quietly, shaking his head. "And when he allows you to stay in his home, unsupervised, because you have no where else to go…" Severus shook his head. "Shameful."

Lupin snapped his mouth firmly closed, choosing not to respond directly to Severus. He looked at Dumbledore and shook his head slowly. "This is the man you choose to send Harry to? I certainly hope the boy is not put through the same constant ridicule the rest of us face in Severus' presence."

"Of course not, Lupin. The abuse is merely physical," Severus sneered, eyes flickering to the ceiling.

"Is that a confession?" Dumbledore asked smoothly, turning around and aiming a gaze at Severus that told him he was quite finished with his behaviour. "You are hardly in a position to be flippant, Severus. Consider that few people are pleased with you at the moment. If I were you, I would maintain as agreeable a demeanour as possible, for you are the one at a disadvantage. Pointing out Remus' supposed flaws will do nothing to make us forget yours."

Severus set his jaw and aimed his gaze downward. Not only was he effectively chastised by the Headmaster, but also, it was almost degrading to have all of this said to him in front of Lupin. Severus bit back any reply he came up with; Dumbledore was one person whose authority and intellect he knew he should not undermine. Any retort would be met with an equally as cutting, though more noble, rejoinder.

Dumbledore allowed his words to sink in for a moment, satisfied with the stifling silence that fell over the room. Severus' lack of rebuttal indicated that the reprimand had penetrated his thick skull.

"Headmaster-"

"Remus," Dumbledore interrupted tiredly, holding up a withered hand, "Please. Give the two of us some privacy."

Despite the reluctance in Lupin's expression, he wisely said nothing more. He nodded silently and turned to leave, avoiding eye contact with the object of his current ire.

"I'm surprised you've managed any parenting at all, Severus," Dumbledore uttered, turning around slowly to face him. "Your behaviour resembles a child more closely than it does a responsible adult."

"My apologies, Headmaster," Severus said tightly. He disliked apologies, but had learned long ago that where Dumbledore was concerned, it was best to offer them before they were torn from you. "You know I have a weakness where any of Potter's comrades are concerned."

"Which Potter?" Dumbledore asked, lifting his chin and waiting for Severus' answer.

"Senior, of course," Severus said restrainedly, forcing his short temper to abandon him. It would not do to lose control now, when he had already come dangerously close to doing so in the Headmaster's eyes.

"Oh," Dumbledore said mildly, raising his eyebrows and glancing downward. "I only ask because you apparently have a weakness where your son's friends are concerned, as well."

Severus narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. He had not failed to notice Dumbledore's subtle use of the word 'son'… this was a good sign. It was a small sign, granted, but good nonetheless. "Miss Weasley was terribly out of line-"

"She has a temper, yes, but I doubt she was anywhere near_ terrible_. And if I am not mistaken, that was never a quality that you hated when you were younger-"

"_Can we please _stop drawing similarities between Miss Weasley and my former wife? It almost feels indecent-"

"No one is suggesting that you feel in any way unseemly towards her, Severus," Dumbledore said firmly. "If you did decide to look for another partner, at any cost, I very much doubt you would choose someone so very similar to Lily. You would choose someone with more… variance from her personality, and looks. After all, she can hardly be replaced."

Severus was grinding his teeth inside his mouth to keep from releasing a long string of insults worthy of the Headmaster. "I'm not interested in-"

"No, no, of course not," Dumbledore said mildly, nodding in agreement.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows in suspicion, and asked abruptly, "Why are you stalling?"

"Whatever do you mean, Severus?"

"You know perfectly well what I mean. I am here to speak with you about Harry, not my… dating preferences!"

Dumbledore nodded, no humour in his eyes. "So we are. I was hoping to take your mind off your quarrel with Remus, actually- and I only tell you this because I know that you will figure it out even without my saying as much. I need your mind on this."

"It is."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said in way of consent, folding his hands in front of him. "Severus… do you love him?"

Shock briefly graced Severus' features, followed by confusion. "Do I- what?"

"It is a very simple question, Severus. Do you love him?"

"It is not a simple question," Severus said slowly, shaking his head. "It is a very complicated question that involves a very complicated answer, taking into account all the different factors of how love is created and what sort of love you mean. It is by no means uninvolved."

"Severus… it is a much simpler concept than you make it seem. Do you care for him? Do you worry about him when he is away? Do you dwell incessantly on whether or not you are making the right choices for him? Has he become a necessity for your happiness?"

Severus wanted to deny every one of these things. He wanted to revile the Headmaster for even daring to suggest them, and claim that he needed no one aside from himself. He wanted to do anything to offset the feelings of vulnerability and gaping openness that the mere suggestions had created in him. However… he did care for Harry. He did worry when the boy was away. He did dwell… almost obsessively so… on the right and wrong choices he could be making while parenting him.

He had become a necessity for his happiness. The sad part of it was that Severus had failed to realize how happy he was, because he regularly denied that such feelings could exist.

"I do," he said quietly, nodding.

"Then you know what you must do," Dumbledore said in an equally quiet voice, stepping forward. "I realize that growing up as you did… this is not easy for you. You have no example to follow. But you must recognize that this does not excuse any sort of abuse; not physical, not verbal, not neglectful. Nothing justifies these acts, especially where your own child is concerned."

"I know that," Severus said.

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Well… prove it."

"And if this isn't the best choice?"

"Severus, do you want to give him up?"

"No…" Severus answered slowly.

"Does Harry want to give up?"

"…No."

"If I wanted you both to give up, would Harry be at your home with you standing in front of me?"

"I suppose not," Severus admitted.

"It was the wrong thing to do, Severus. You know that… and that fact tells me that it will not progress to the level that you fear it will. I will speak with Harry after a few days, when he is beginning to get comfortable again… you both need to work on this."

"You needn't speak with him," Severus said tiredly. "I've already informed him that this is something he needs to work on as well-"

Dumbledore's eyes widened slightly, and he exhaled audibly. "Severus… tell me you didn't indicate that this might have been his fault…"

"Well, he is partially to blame, that's all I really-"

"Severus! You cannot ever tell a child that it is his fault that he's been hurt! Do you have any idea the psychological ramifications that will have? The boy already doubts himself in regards to his relationships with adults; do you really think it will be beneficial for him to start believing that all the failures originate with him?"

"Albus, the boy has matured significantly- surely he will realize that I never meant it was his fault."

"Severus, how old are you?"

"Thirty-seven," Severus answered.

Dumbledore nodded. "Think of the guilt complex you have, even at this age. Maturity has nothing to do with it, Severus."

xxx

Visible from the parlour, Harry was still sitting in the same spot Severus had left him in when he returned. He was leaning on the arm of the couch and staring across the room; he hadn't heard Severus come in through the front door.

Rather than flooing back, Severus had apparated back to his home, hoping that the walk up to the door might give enough time for the numb, deadened feeling he'd acquired to wear off. The impact of Dumbledore's words had been more than significant; it had been harrowing.

Severus stood quietly in the parlour, unable to move towards the next room. Could he say what needed to be said? Would he choke and hurt the boy again because of a moment of indecision and a defensive statement?

He did know what needed to be done. He needed to do as people kept instructing him: to be the adult. He was the one who needed to take responsibility first, instead of attempting to force Harry to be the first one to admit remorse. He needed to fix this. He certainly couldn't expect Harry to do it; that wouldn't be right.

Vexed and distressed, Severus steeled his nerves and made his way to the door of the other room. Harry looked up at him and gave him a half-hearted smile, sending another surge of guilt through Severus. He had been the one to make his smile so melancholy.

"I didn't hear you come in," Harry said.

Severus nodded. "I apparated."

Severus was unsure whether it was his tone of voice or facial expression that alerted Harry to the fact that something was off, but the boy instantly understood. He stopped forcing his smile, and knitted his eyebrows together in anticipatory thought, watching Severus intently.

"I'm sorry," Severus softly said a moment later. Harry's expression changed; he was seemingly shocked that Severus had come right out and said this without any prompting.

Harry's face alone made Severus want to stop and leave it at that. He didn't want to continue on, throwing down his pride and stamping all over it. Still, he knew he must. "I reacted out of anger, and gave in to my rage. I should not have done that… it was irresponsible of me as an adult placed in charge of you… as your father, in whom you should be able to place the ultimate trust. Harry, I thought I could never regret anything as much as what I did to your mother… but I find this competing for a close second. I couldn't stand it if it had gone any further."

Not for the first time that day, but for very different reasons, Harry found himself rendered incapable of speech. He felt rather embarrassed by the wateriness of his eyes, and had to turn his head away for a moment to regain his composure. "Thank you," he said softly, head still turned towards the couch. "That means a lot to me."

Severus simply nodded. Like Harry, he found himself currently unable to speak, though it was more out of embarrassment and an immense feeling of awkwardness that he was unable.

Several minutes passed in which each was content to remain silent. Severus quietly moved to sit in his chair, resting his elbows on its arms and staring at the ground. Harry remained curled up on the couch, head resting against the high rising back and staring straight ahead.

It was awhile before Harry found his voice, and his nerve, to speak again. "Do you really mean that?"

Severus frowned, looking almost offended. "Do you honestly think I would say something like that if it wasn't incontrovertibly true?"

Harry shrugged and looked down. "People say a lot of things…"

"Such as promising to hold their tempers?"

Harry's eyes flicked guiltily up to Severus, and he gave a jerky nod.

Severus couldn't deny that this tugged insistently at his conscience, making him feel positively ashamed. Still, he attempted to keep his face relaxed, and nodded. "Harry, as much as I can say that I'll work on my temper… I can't guarantee that I can keep it in check. I should never have been foolish enough to make such a fallible promise to you. I… I gave you the choice of living with Dumbledore for a reason."

Harry closed his eyes and nodded again. Severus noted his pained expression, and added softly, "Harry, I hope you know that I don't blame you for this."

"Well, I was out of line-"

Severus shook his head, and said firmly, "As mature as you may be, as much weight as you can carry on your shoulders, you are still the child. I acted inappropriately, and nothing excuses that- therefore, this is not your fault. I expect better behaviour from you in the future, but by no means does that mean that you are to blame for yesterday's events."

Harry did not verbally reply; he looked oddly relieved, doubtful, and guilty all at once. The mixture did not make for a happy expression, and Severus grimaced at the speculation of what might be running through the boy's mind.

"You realize that staying with me could not be the best choice…"

"No," Harry protested, looking up. The doubt and guilt were instantly replaced by something else: resolve. "This is… this is hard, but not impossible. We can… I'm sure we can find some way to make this work. We just both have to work on our tempers-"

"Harry-"

Harry's mouth opened and shut again, making Severus realized he hadn't been finished. It was a good indication of Harry's effort to be more respectful. Wanting to know what Harry had been about to say, Severus discontinued his sentence and gestured for Harry to continue.

"I'm sort of… glad to know that you don't blame me entirely for what happened…"

"I don't blame you at all."

"Yes, well. I still made a mistake, and I'm going to… try not to do it again. And I _am _sorry. But unless you ask me to, I'm not leaving. My mother never gave up on you… neither will I."

"Your mother did-"

"No, you gave up on her first. Are you planning to do the same to me?"

Severus closed his eyes in a tight grimace, and shook his head. "No, but-"

"Maybe the problem," Harry offered, "is that you're so convinced within yourself that you're going to fail. You have to realize that you're not your father."

Severus' eyes snapped open again, his gaze accusingly flying to Harry. "Did you hear that in one of those dreams?"

Harry frowned in confusion, doubt and cautiousness beginning to dissolve in the flow of conversation. "No… why?"

Severus relaxed marginally, and admitted tightly, "Because, it's exactly what your mother used to say to me."

"If everyone says it to you," Harry started tentatively, unfolding his legs and sitting forward, "Then why don't you ever listen?"

"Harry, take this into consideration. I've spent my whole life being told…" Severus faltered, and shifted his gaze to the floor again, "…awful things about myself. It's not easy to refute a lifetime worth of criticisms and terrorizing with the lies of those who care for you."

"They aren't lies," Harry said resolutely, folding his arms. It was amazing… he would never have pictured this strong adult as such a tormented individual… not in this sense. It was clear that the ghosts of his past were still haunting him. "When you care about a person, you don't lie to them."

"Dumbledore has lied to you-"

"Dumbledore cares for me and you in a different way. He tries to protect people from the world. You, and I, and probably mum all know that shielding people from the truth is no way to protect them. Have a little faith that none of us would handicap you that way. We care too much to lie."

Severus narrowed his eyes, carefully scrutinizing his son. "You talk about her as if she's still alive."

"Well, from what I'm told, her presence on earth was so strong when she was alive… I don't see how death could just erase her. Do you really think it could?"

A small smile appeared on Severus face, and he shook his head. "No, I suppose not."

A moment passed, and when Severus said nothing else, Harry advised softly, "If you don't start believing it, it's just going to make things worse."

Severus gave him an odd half smile, and asked, "When did you start giving me advice?"

Harry grinned and made a show of checking the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Oh, I'd say about… ten minutes ago."

Severus nodded, and rose to walk around to where Harry was sitting. He placed a hand on his son's shoulder and gave him a weak smile. "I suppose it's a very good thing that you are your Mother's son… thank you for this, Harry."

The grin present on Harry's face faded into a softened, serious look, and he nodded. "People deserve second chances… and to have others care about them."

Severus nodded his appreciation and removed his hand, while Harry continued. "I can't say I wasn't angry when it happened… I was really angry. But umm… I guess when I was leaving, I realized I couldn't just leave you here. You don't deserve to be abandoned."

"I'm not so sure about that," Severus replied quietly, turning to leave the room.

Harry frowned determinedly and rose from the couch, catching Severus by the arm. "Well, I am."

Severus shook his head. "How can you just forgive people, Harry? What possesses you to do it?"

Harry shrugged. "It's the right thing to do. Listen… I can't say I'm completely over this. I can't say that I don't worry this could happen again… but I'd rather make the best of a bad situation than just give up. I know you didn't do it out of malice… I know it was a heat of the moment kind of thing. And you regret it… that in itself is more than Vernon Dursley ever did."

Severus furrowed his eyebrows, and turned around completely. "Harry, did he ever physically hurt you?"

Harry laughed; a bitter, quiet laugh. "Did you ever really doubt it? Yeah… but most of the time, it was nothing big. He never broke any bones or left any awful bruising… just a few smacks and tosses here and there."

Severus' expression darkened, and Harry could see that vengeance was forming in his mind. "I'm serious, it was nothing that awful," he said hurriedly, shaking his head to emphasize his point. "And what's past is past."

"It's not the past, Harry, if you have to go back there this summer," Severus said in a low growl, turning and walking from the room. Sure that Severus expected him to follow, Harry quickly played the shadow and walked into the next room.

"He's not that stupid," Harry argued, following him. "When he found out about… about Sirius…" Harry choked on the man's name a little. He was normally very good at keeping him off his mind… but mentioning him was still hard. Also, he couldn't help but be afraid that the mention of his dead godfather might set Severus off. He waited a moment, and Severus shot him an irritated look.

"I'm not going to punish you for mentioning Black, so you can continue," he said, gesturing for Harry to do so.

Harry nodded and went on. "He wouldn't so much as yell at me most of the time."

Severus raised his eyebrow in an expression of clear doubt, and Harry amended, "Okay, fine, he still yelled at me a lot. But I got food, and he sure wasn't going to burst into my room and start hitting me or anything-"

"He did that before?" Severus roared, whirling around again.

"No!" Harry quickly denied, throwing his hands out. "No! I- no, he didn't, I was just saying he wasn't going to-"

"Why are you protecting them?" Severus demanded, crossing his arms.

"I'm not," Harry said. "I'm protecting you. I know if you jump to the wrong conclusion you'll go marching down to Surrey, and that's not what I want… because you'll probably end up in Azkaban, and I'll be right back where I started. Is that what you want? It's not what I want."

"Well of course I don't want to go to Azkaban," Severus scoffed. "But I want the truth."

Harry nodded. "I was never heavily abused by Vernon. I may have been manhandled from time to time, and I might have gotten a few good cuffs around the back of the head… but physically, they never tormented me."

"And emotionally?"

Harry shrugged, and then nodded in acknowledgement. "Well… I suppose that's a different story. But you can't exactly press charges with emotional scars as evidence, can you?"

Severus closed his eyes and shook his head. "No… no, you can't."

"Listen, don't worry," Harry said placatingly, receiving a glare from Severus. He knew it was the soothing tone of voice for which he was being scowled at; the man hated to feel like he was being manoeuvred, or worse, pitied. "If they know that you're backing me up now- if they started feeding me just because of Sirius, imagine how they'll treat me when they know it's you!"

"And how would that change anything?"

"Well… remember that visit you paid us during the summer?"

"All too well, yes," Severus said stiffly, eying Harry with suspicion.

"Well... I was thinking you could pay us another one."

Severus could not stop the appreciative, yet dark smile from curling around his thin lips.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at Severus' expression. "I take it you like my idea, then."

Severus gave a low laugh, and inclined his head. "It has its merits," he admitted. Harry smiled and shook his head.

"So… are we still doing, you know, Christmas and everything?" Harry asked a moment later, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Well, who would I be to call off Christmas?" Severus asked, frowning. "Assuming you can stand me for such long amounts of time… we will proceed with our plans."

"I think I can handle it," said Harry, putting on a pensive expression.

"Well, then we will have dinner in several hours," Severus said, secretly glad he hadn't needed to go through the awkwardness of bringing up this topic. Harry had done that for him.

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding. "But umm… I'm going to go up to my room for awhile, if that's alright…"

"I never meant for you to think me so oppressive," Severus replied, frowning. "Of course, if you want to go up to your room, you can."

"Well, I just… kind of… left a mess, this morning," Harry admitted shamefacedly, flushing brightly. "I thought I should clean it up…"

Severus raised his eyebrows in understanding. "I see," he said, careful not to sound overtly reproving. Truthfully, he wasn't entirely surprised by this bit of information. "Well, if you don't come to find me before dinner, I will knock on your door."

Harry nodded. "Well, I'll probably come to find you anyways… but yeah, if I don't…"

Both nodded, each unknowingly thinking the same thing. If making plans for dinner was awkward, that spoke volumes about what dinner itself would be like. All at once, they were both blatantly aware of the lack of comfortable familiarity that had existed between them. It was still attainable; their reconciliation had made this much clear… but it was equally as obvious that they were going to have to work very hard to become what they had been before.

xxx End Chapter 37 xxx

AN: Well, I hope you all enjoyed that chapter, and I hope it gave you just a little bit of closure. I know the last one didn't offer much.

Also, a lot of people put their efforts into helping me with this chapter and I feel the need thank them all as well. **Rlmess**, **Cithara**, and **MakalaniAstral** all put effort into betaing the chapter and answered my relentless questions. They also got this done in about two days, because I was incredibly impatient, so thank you so much to them! Then there is **lilsnape (also known as Trish and Slyslytherin)** who gave me so much inspiration and lets me ramble to her all day- you should thank her for getting online everyday and going "write!". Lastly, I should thank **Allison **for her help- being a major in psychology; she went through and made sure that the psychological concepts were spot on. I can't express my gratefulness for those mentioned above.

Thank you all for your continued support! I appreciate the encouragement, motivation, and honesty you all provide, and dedicate this to all of you.

I love you all platonically,

-me-


	38. A Milder Sort of Christmas

Chapter 38

A Milder Sort of Christmas

xxx

With the use of magic, it did not take Harry long to clean his room. A _reparo _easily took care of the destroyed pillow on the floor, and Tibby, the ever-efficient house elf that she was, slyly unpacked his clothes and cleaned what he had missed while he was using the bathroom.

Honestly, Harry had not expected this to take long at all. He had used it as a ploy to avoid the awkward silence that was bound to follow their conversation. As much as he had wanted to stay, he did not particularly relish spending every waking moment with Severus; at least, not today. While there were moments when it seemed nothing was changed, there was constantly a voice in the back of his mind reminding him that the elements of their relationship were now somewhat distorted.

Also bothering him was the fact that Lupin could perhaps be angry with him for wanting to stay. As empathetic as the man usually was, Harry doubted whether he realised what it felt like to be in his position. He could see why Lupin would be protective of him. He still considered him to be James' son, and Sirius' godson. It would be difficult for him to accept that Severus was his father now, especially after the man had hurt so many people he'd cared for.

Harry knew that Severus was often unkind. He recognized that the man had an awful temper that couldn't be rivaled. But the truth was that no one could ever be without fault. He didn't expect Severus to be, and he certainly hoped that he wasn't expected to be. Humanity was universal.

With this thought, Harry frowned. Perhaps he needed to pen Lupin and explain… and maybe apologize. He realized he hadn't really said much to Lupin about this, and he wanted the man to really understand.

Making the quick decision to brave the hallways so that he could get some parchment from the study, Harry moved to the door and out into the hallway. With a quick glance around, Harry walked quickly towards the end of the hall and turned. He wasn't being overly cautious; if he did happen to run into Severus, he would simply explain that he was going to go get some parchment. As he had learned over the past few weeks, the man wouldn't appreciate being hidden from. Still, Harry wasn't eager to run into him again. If he could wait until dinner to see him, he was sure he would feel much less out of depth.

Perhaps it was due to his growing familiarity with the house, but the trip down to the study did not feel as treacherous as it had before— he did not feel the need to glance around corners to check to make sure Severus wasn't coming. He didn't feel so uneasy. He found this odd, considering the circumstances.

Harry retrieved the parchment from the study quickly, and it only took him a moment to decide to write his letter in his room, rather than the study. He would rather dislike being happened upon by Severus and asked about the letter; he didn't much relish the idea of explaining that he was writing a letter to Lupin, apologizing for wanting to stay. He simply didn't want to deal with the conversation that would most certainly follow.

Harry returned to his room equally as quickly as he had left it, and found himself wishing he had a desk in there. He considered moving the low table across the room to sit in front of his bed, but reflected that he would be writing at a rather awkward angle. He frowned at this thought for a moment before shrugging and sinking to the floor, laying the parchment out in front of him and moving to lie on his stomach, quill in hand.

_Dear Professor Lupin, _Harry wrote, still unsure how to address him. Despite the fact that Lupin hadn't taught in years, he had been good enough a teacher to keep the title, at least in Harry's book.

_I'm not sure when I will see you again, so I wanted to explain some things before it's been too long to recall what I really want to say. I felt that a lot of things were left unsettled earlier when I went with Severus, and I'd like to resolve them before things between us get too tense. I consider you a good friend, and I don't want to lose that._

_I'm really sorry if you think that I'm taking your guidance for granted; I'm not. In fact, I really appreciate that you care, that's why I couldn't stay truly angry with you. However, this doesn't change the fact that Severus is my father, and I can't abandon him. _

_I know you think I'm doing this in the hopes that I'll have someone to care for me, or because I'm naïve. None of these things is the case. I know Severus can be difficult and callus, but he really isn't always like that. There are a lot of things you just don't see unless he lets you. I know he cares for me. _

_I won't stay if things like this keep happening; I promise you that. But I don't think they will. He's trying, Professor, he really is trying. I think he deserves another chance. _

_Please understand that this means a lot to me, and don't be upset or think that I'm making a mistake out of weakness and a reluctance to walk away. No relationship is perfect- no person is perfect. Wouldn't it be more naïve to expect perfection than to expect and deal with difficulty? _

_I hope to hear from you soon, _

_Harry_

Harry did not reread his letter. He had written what he wanted to say, and knew that if he looked at it again or gave it time he would have second thoughts. Folding up the letter and addressing it to Lupin, he immediately summoned Tibby and asked him to give the letter to Hedwig when she returned to the house.

Once Tibby had gone, Harry shook his head and flopped onto his bed, staring up at the golden canopy. He heaved a heavy sigh and turned over onto his side, pulling down a pillow to place under his head. Realizing for the first time how weary the day's events had rendered him, he allowed his eyes to fall closed.

It wasn't long before Harry could feel the temptation of sleep tugging at his mind, pulling him towards a state of unconsciousness. Unwilling to battle the impulse and welcoming the chance to take a break from the extremely complex thoughts and feelings plaguing him, he kept his eyes shut and slowly let go of awareness. His last thought was that perhaps some sleep would rid him of the dread pitted in his stomach at the thought of facing Severus for the rest of the week.

xxx

Severus, ever the avoidant, found solace in the remaining work he had to do in the lab-to-be on the third floor. He had a series of counters set up around the perimeter of the room, with plenty of space to move about (a necessity if he, Miss Granger, Harry, and sometimes Dumbledore would be working in there) and two large islands in the different spots in the room.

Upon reflection, he realized he had set it up as a larger, more elaborate replica of his dungeons at Hogwarts. The small room in which he was able to brew independently was often insufficient in space, and he normally found himself setting up cauldrons in his classroom as well. Even the Potions room that the Dark Lord had once provided him with had been less than idyllic. He had often given thought to the many things he might accomplish with a greater work area, but had never really considered it a possibility.

As soon as Severus finished fortifying the shelves he'd constructed to hold supplies and finished warding the doors on the various cabinets, he would be ready to re-clean and equip the room for use. The Order had been working to find the things he would need for his tasks. Naturally, they were all on separate assignments and had no idea for what purpose they were to acquire these items, but that fact mattered very little as long as they were obtained in the end. Soon, he would be coming on the weekends to begin work on the potion.

As Severus worked on the lab, he was coming to a significant realization. It was important that Harry stay with him. He had already begun to gather materials that he would use to instruct Harry in his training over the summer. He was close to finishing Lily's old white room so that his son would have the best facilities possible to learn strong white magic. He had submitted a long list of Dark Magic books to Dumbledore in order for approval. He was the one who was most able to instruct Harry in these things. If for no other reason, he had to control himself so that Harry could gain the training experience.

He was still unsure what kind of emotional or fundamental benefit his presence in his son's life provided. He was unsure whether he was a good influence or if he was damaging Harry's psychological health. However, it was becoming clear that Harry wanted him in his life, and he supposed that abandoning the boy for the purpose of 'doing what was best' for him might have detrimental effects, even in comparison to the outcome of the alternative. He owed it to Harry to stop doubting himself and focus on what he could help his son to accomplish: learning the skills necessary to defeat Lord Voldemort.

xxx

When Harry awoke, he worried for a moment that he had missed dinner. He awoke abruptly, as though his mind was alerting him to something, only to glance at the clock and realize he'd been asleep for barely an hour. Frustrated at this (for this meant that he would have to find another way to pass the time until dinner), Harry huffily turned over onto his stomach and let out a long sigh. He really didn't want to stay up in his room all day and dwell on what had happened; he needed to clear his head.

Glancing out the window at the dreary state of the skies and the frost pressing against the glass from the chilly December weather, Harry rose and pulled a long, thick grey jumper from his drawer. He pulled it ungracefully over his head, arms twisting at odd angles as he poked them through the stretchy sleeves. Dressed for the weather and feeling considerably warmer, he headed for the door.

Harry could conclude from the quiet state of the house and emptiness of the hallways that Severus had shut himself up in one of the rooms. He didn't particularly mind this fact, but gave consideration to the fact that he might be expected to notify Severus of when he left the house. Severus hadn't stated specifically that this needed to be done, but Harry could guess that Severus wouldn't react well to his strolling out the front door without so much as a word. He might even think Harry was running away.

For the second time that day, Harry called for Tibby. She promptly appeared, waiting expectantly for instructions.

"Tibby, could you go tell Master Snape that I will be going outside for a walk, if that's alright with him?"

Harry watched the elf carefully for a reaction, remembering the last time he had disregarded her horror at one of his requests. Much to his pleasure, she nodded without hesitancy.

"Shall Tibby report back to Master Harry with a reply?"

"Yes, that would be great," Harry said, offering an encouraging smile. He was glad to see that she was becoming more accustomed to his presence in the house, and less timid around him.

Again, she nodded. "Tibby shall return shortly," she said, bowing her head and disappearing with a small _pop_.

Harry exhaled and moved to lean against the wall, looking around. He noted that the walls in the house were all very plain. He had yet to see a portrait of a person, a decorative mirror, or scenic painting of a landscape. He noticed a candle here and there and some drapery around the windows, but aside from those, the walls were bare.

As promised, the elf returned shortly. "Master Snape says 'That will be fine'," she informed him politely, seeming pleased to earn another positive reaction when he smiled.

"Great," Harry said, moving towards the door.

"Master also says you is to wear something warm," Tibby said from behind. Harry turned to see her eyeing his jumper speculatively.

"I have this," Harry said, pinching the fabric of his top. "I'm sure it will suffice."

Tibby seemed torn about arguing with him; having two masters with conflicting opinions was clearly not something to which she was accustomed. "I suppose… that is being alright," she conceded reluctantly, still looking apprehensive.

"If he asks, I'll say that it was my fault nothing warmer went onto my body," Harry assured her. Her expression didn't change, but she gave him a respectful curtsy and, without another word, disappeared again.

Ridiculous as it was, as Harry started out of the house, he was more warmed by Severus' concern than he was by the fleece covering him. It was a subtle reminder that though they'd had a fall out, the man still cared enough to give him silly instructions.

Smiling slightly to himself, Harry pulled his sleeves down over his fingers and headed down the grey brick path, kicking gnarled weeds and plants out of his way as he went. As the path wound around the house, leading him into the back, Harry realized for the first time what a large amount of land Severus' house was plotted on. From the balcony on the second floor, it didn't seem so vast, for one could view most of the grounds from there with fair ease. What one couldn't see, however, was that the path extended past the various overgrown gardens. The line of trees that seemed to encircle the property were actually part of the property, it appeared. Harry stood on the higher ground near the house and gazed outward.

At one time, Harry supposed that the grounds must have all been very orderly and neatly kept. The path broke at various places and was replaced by grey flint steps, leading down small or large hills. There were some platforms of the same stone that were untouched by the weeds, except for around the edges, while some statues and fountains were unrecognizable for all the dead vegetation enveloping them.

Harry frowned, wondering if this had been a place of beauty when his mother had dwelled here. It certainly seemed a waste to let it go in this state. Still, he doubted he would know where to begin restoring it.

Harry wandered to the edge of a steep hill and made his way down the long stone stairs embedded in the ground there. A majority of them were covered, at least partially, in a thick layer of moss, which Harry reflected seemed to be the greenest thing in the entire garden. Surprisingly, only a few of the steps were split and sinking into the ground. The stone throughout the garden was worn, and Harry doubted it had been redone since the house had been built. With magic, it would hardly have been necessary, but as no one had lived here for almost twenty years, nothing that Tibby didn't tend to was in good condition.

Harry shortly reached the lower level, feeling satisfied that he had not fallen and worrying about how the climb back up the precarious stairs would be.

The path continued at the bottom, but Harry turned his attention instead to one of the large, vine entangled fountains with a square base and the statue of an elegant woman erected in the middle. This manor had once been a place of prestige, he could tell, but it had long since decayed into a dilapidated house sitting on a wasteland, in essence. Harry perched himself on the edge of the fountain, and looked down into the shallow, dry basin, imagining the history that must lie behind this place.

Harry knew that Severus had inherited this house, but that he had not grown up in it. This made Harry wonder where exactly Severus had lived, and why it had not been here. It had to have been a beautiful place once upon a time, and Harry could find no viable reason why anyone would choose not to live here- aside from its repellent outward appearance, which he guessed could have been corrected if someone would have attempted to do so earlier in time.

Severus did not seem bothered by the house, aside from the memories of Lily that it brought back. So the real question remained to be, what had Severus' father found to be so disagreeable with living in the house? Severus had also said that his father had called it "The Snape Manor", indicating that he had at least had a modicum of respect for the place. It had not been Snape's mother's house, and whatever dark secrets it held had no outward effect on Severus.

The house and its past were as mysterious as the secrets of Severus himself, and Harry was becoming more and more determined to discover both as the days went by.

How long Harry sat on the flat edge of that fountain pondering these things, he did not know, and only when his thought processes began going in circles and he began thinking on tangents did he realize he had spent far too much time outside the house. Harry stood and rubbed his arms that were now quaking with the cold, contemplating the long trip back up the stairs that, from this angle, did not seem very reliable. He looked around, realizing that if the garden were not so overgrown, he could simply travel back up the hill without use of the stairs. Sighing and wishing he knew some good gardening charms, Harry followed the grey path to the first step, and began climbing.

xxx

Severus did not spend a great deal of time labouring on his workroom, because he liked the fact that it provided both an excuse and a distraction in uncomfortable situations and he was sure there were more to come on this holiday. He dared not finish even before the first week drew to a close.

Instead, Severus turned his attention to other mundane tasks as he waited for Harry to return to the house for dinner. He had already decided to let the boy wander the grounds as he pleased tonight; he would come back to the house when he was ready. This seemed an unusual decision for Severus to make- he normally preferred to be in control of things, and he had always had the idea that children should be subject to the authority of adults, despite the circumstances. However, reflecting on the actions he had taken with Harry since they'd become close, he was not nearly as strict a disciplinarian as a father as he was as a teacher. Granted, he was not at all indulgent- he would not tolerate true misbehaviour- but the fact was that Harry rarely demonstrated truly abhorrent qualities. Most of his misdeeds were borne of good intention or naivety.

There was little to do around the house, so Severus was not occupied for long after he left the third floor. At Hogwarts, he refused to allow the house elves to clean his office, classroom, or workroom due to the volatile nature of the substances he kept in all three; he often spent time at the end of the day tending to the messes he had made throughout. He was not, overall, an extremely fussy person when it came to organization, but there was a certain method to his madness, and he liked to keep it that way.

At the house, however, Tibby took care of most of the rooms, and he had not yet spent enough time at his desk for it to become an unorganized pile of chaos. Upon the realization that this left him with little to do, Severus settled himself into one of the chairs in the study and began rereading Ellis Erimand's four book series on the development of strong white magic. He had not been particularly fascinated by the books the first time he had read them, but believed they would provide a good basis for Harry's training. He had already decided to read them and pick out the key points, so that when Harry read them, he would have helpful learning tools and a well educated teacher with a deep knowledge of the subject.

Before Severus could get started on the books, he heard a small tapping noise at one of the windows. Frowning for a moment and regretfully rising from his chair, Severus went to the source of the noise. He was rather surprised to see Hedwig perched on the window ledge there; normally letters arrived to him through Tibby. Still, he opened the window and took the letter from the preening bird. She looked rather disgruntled when he shut the window before she could climb in, but he paid little attention to that. He was more concerned with who the letter was from.

He would recognize the writing anywhere. Not only was he an expert at detecting falsifications of signatures and homework answers from students, but also, it had been a skill he'd been honing since he first became a spy. It was very important to know whom he was corresponding with, and this had become an important tool. This handwriting stood out to him in particular because he adamantly disliked the owner of the distinctive penmanship: Remus Lupin.

Severus turned the letter over and flipped it back again, frowning deeply. Obviously, it was a response to something Harry had written to him, otherwise Hedwig would not have delivered it. But why had Harry written to him so soon after the day's events?

Severus was trying, almost successfully, to block out the prior day's events and the aftermath that had followed. He never had a particularly difficult time dissembling emotion or unwanted thoughts, even from himself. Still, he was unsure how Harry was dealing with this at this point. He hadn't seen the boy for most of the day, but he supposed that was to be expected. Though some things had been resolved earlier, the fact still remained that there were a lot of pieces left to be put back into their puzzle of a relationship.

As curious as Severus was about the letter, he decided not to pry. Harry was free to correspond with whom he wished, provided there was no danger in it, and Severus could find no true mortal danger in communication with Lupin. He tucked the letter into his pocket to give to Harry later, and began steeling his resolve not to probe Harry for answers about the nature of the missives.

Returning to his chair and picking up his book, Severus tried to forget about the letter and the current commotion in his life. He opened up the book to the first page and began reading diligently.

Severus soon found, for the first time in quite awhile, that he was not above distraction. He found himself continually glancing at the time, wondering when Harry would return to the house, and pondering whether he ought to ask Tibby to start dinner. Severus blamed his waning attention on the fact that this was his second time viewing the material before him, and he was too intelligent to be stimulated by knowledge he already possessed. Never mind that he rarely had particularly great amounts of trouble reading the hundreds of essays turned in to him by the end of the day, all full of the same information and awash with rewording and blatant plagiarism. This was very different.

For some time, Severus put a concentrated effort into focusing on the first chapter. When he reached the end of the sixteenth page and could recall nothing that he'd read thus far, however, he abandoned it as a lost cause intended for another time and placed the book in its appropriate position on the shelves.

With a theory that Harry's absence was causing this uncharacteristic lack of tenacity, Severus headed towards the second floor balcony, where he knew he would be able to view Harry if the boy was indeed where he had said he planned to go.

The cold air greeted him with fervour as he stepped outside, and he was reminded to check that Harry was wearing something warm as instructed. He strode to the edge of the terrace and leaned over theparapet,narrowing his eyes and surveying the grounds. He hadn't taken notice of their state of disarray before this; he had looked, but not truly seen them. The state of the house had mattered very little to him the few times he'd apparated to the grounds when on the run, and when he had arrived for this holiday, he had been far too preoccupied to give the appearance of the gardens much thought. They had once been a beautiful addition to the house- he had enjoyed his time in them the few times they had visited the house when he was a child. Now they were so overgrown that he didn't know where to begin looking for his son's messy mop of black hair.

It took Severus about ten minutes to locate his son in the garden, and even then, he could see only the top of his head. He was rather far from the house, but he wasn't anywhere near the line of trees that Severus suddenly realized he had neglected to mention should not be crossed.

Severus sighed, the worry he had not been aware of significantly alleviated, and moved back towards the glass doors, where he would be sheltered, and leaned against the wall, absently watching Harry.

Before long, Severus could see Harry rise and begin making his way back to the house. He smiled when Harry stopped in front of the steps and waited several moments. The boy probably thought that the embedded stairs would collapse if he were not careful, without realizing that no matter how much the stairs broke down, the charms keeping them steady there would still be in place. Obviously, Severus would have warned him to stay away from them otherwise. At times, it amazed Severus that the boy who was supposed to save the Wizarding World could know so little about the World itself.

Severus watched until Harry had reached the top of the stairs and had started making his way back to the front of the house. Frowning to himself, he considered the prospect of meeting Harry down at the entrance hall. He had decided much earlier to let the boy come to him… but he also knew that if he made himself scarce and difficult to access the likelihood of that happening within the next day was little to none.

Unwilling to let the evening slip away, especially since Christmas was the following morning, Severus made his decision and moved from his place in the shadows to the glass doors, opening one and stepping inside. As he didn't want Harry to feel intimidated by his sudden presence at the door, he moved into the parlour and waited to move until he heard the door in the entrance hallway open.

xxx

Though his teeth had been chattering and limbs shaking, Harry hadn't realized how much warmth he was missing out on until he stepped into the house. He sighed with relief as he shut the door; during the walk back to the house he had become a lot colder than he remembered being on the walk away from it. He supposed this was due in part to the lengthy amount of time he had spent outside, or to the fact that he hadn't been so lost in thought on the way back.

Harry turned around slowly, rubbing up and down his arms in an effort to warm them. What he didn't expect to see was Severus standing in the doorway, looking at him with a mildly peeved expression.

"I thought I said to wear something warm," Severus said, making Harry almost want to laugh at this form of greeting. He eyed Harry's grey jumper speculatively, shaking his head slightly.

"This is warm," Harry lied, fingering the fabric of his top. He had truthfully expected the weather to be warmer and the sweater to be thicker. Fleece did not make an efficient wind breaker, apparently.

"Ah, that explains the bluish tint to your lips," Severus commented dryly, pulling out his wand and flicking it behind him. Harry frowned for a moment, until a charcoal grey blanket resembling the one Severus kept in his rooms at Hogwarts came flying into the room. Expression unchanging, Severus caught the blanket without so much as a glance at it, and handed it to Harry. "Put this on, before you keel over."

"Put the blanket on?" Harry questioned with purposeful stupidity, holding up the blanket and looking at it inquisitively.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Wrap it around your shoulders," he articulated, causing the side of Harry's mouth to quirk.

"Thanks," Harry said, doing as suggested and tugging the blanket tightly around him. He idly wondered if Severus had purposely summoned him a blanket that matched his jumper.

Severus nodded brusquely and leaned against the door, inspecting Harry. Harry expressly avoided eye contact, eyes wandering around the moderately barren room. There was something in the atmosphere hanging between the fine lines of caution and comfort- it was an odd mix, one to which neither person really knew how to react.

"So," Harry said after a moment, body temperature finally returning to normal. "What did you do all day?"

Severus gave him an odd, curious look, but answered without question, "I worked on the third floor, read a chapter of a book, accomplished several other small tasks. How did you find the grounds?"

Harry shrugged. "I would say I can't complain, but the garden really does need tending," he admitted bluntly.

A laugh escaped Severus, and he inclined his head in agreement. "A summer project, perhaps."

"A summer project I should help with?" Harry asked.

"Yes, actually," Severus said after considering this for a moment. "I'm sure you'll look forward to it."

Harry detected sarcasm in Severus' voice, but nodded anyways. "I'm sure I will," he agreed. Severus frowned at this, but said nothing. In truth, Harry thought it might be interesting to see how a Wizard took care of his gardens as opposed to the muggle methods his aunt forced him to use. He would be seventeen this summer; perhaps if he was still forced to live with the Dursleys for a majority of the time, he could pick up a few charms and spells that would at least make the housework they gave him easier.

Deciding to ignore Harry's response, as he was unsure how it was intended to be taken, Severus changed the topic to their plans for that night. "Are you hungry?" he asked after a short pause.

Harry frowned at Severus' seemingly out of place question, but nodded. "I am," he admitted. "Are you?"

In truth, Severus was not particularly hungry. However, this mattered very little; his appetite was hardly what one would call voracious. "Yes," he lied. "I can summon Tibby and we can have dinner now, if you would like."

Harry uttered his mild agreement and moved past Severus into the hallway. "I'm going to put this blanket back and put on a thicker top," he informed his father, heading for the stairs. "I'll meet you in the kitchen in about five minutes?"

Severus bit back on a sharp comment about the impropriety of speaking to an elder with one's back turned, and said simply, "That will be fine."

Severus watched Harry turn his head over his shoulder and nod, and then summoned the elf. After briefly ordering her to have dinner prepared, he retreated to his rooms to change his dust covered robes.

xxx

Harry was slightly surprised when he was the first to arrive in the kitchen. He was glad to see that dinner would be a casual affair that night. No candles littered their small table, the kitchen was not decorated in the usual yuletide garb, and ordinary, casual plates with bundles of silverware containing no more than one fork were set at their places. While Severus appreciated quality, he had apparently seen no need for extravagance and had understood that Harry would have felt uncomfortable in such a setting.

Harry slowly sank down into one of the chairs, unsure whether there was an etiquette rule about waiting to seat oneself until all partakers of the meal to come had arrived. He was sure if he was wrong to do so Severus would be quick to point it out, at any cost, so he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable and leaned against the tall back of the chair. He found himself back in the same place he had been with Severus several months ago, when he had often sat nervously, worrying about what the two of them would speak of. He knew he was being silly- in all actuality, nothing had truly changed. They had simply experienced another event that they could add to their history, and it was an event that should have been expected, anyways. Part of him even argued that it wasn't such a big deal, and he found it relatively easy not to think about it while the two were not in the same room. However, when they were together and conversing… it was difficult to forget Severus' infuriation.

When Severus arrived in the kitchen, he looked deceptively unmoved except for the slight widening of his eyes and lowering of his brows. "I wasn't expecting to be the second one here," he remarked mildly.

"I don't _intentionally_ try to be late to everything, you know," Harry said back, belatedly realizing what a bite there was to his tone.

If Severus had not already prepared himself for a trying evening before he'd come downstairs, he might have snapped on Harry right then and there. As it was, however, he simply raised an eyebrow and said calmly, "Kindly refrain from being rude if you would like the same consideration."

Severus felt satisfied when Harry's mouth snapped shut and guilt overtook his expression. Severus nodded his satisfaction and sat down at the table, where food instantly appeared.

They were served a satisfying meal of roast duck over a bed of warm vegetables covered in a mild mushroom sauce, and a generously sized quantity of bread to share. Harry did take the bread Severus offered him a moment later, but said little more than a quiet, "thank you," before he started on his meal.

"You don't have to be completely silent, you know," Severus said after a short while, choosing an asparagus off his plate.

Harry shrugged and continued eating, still feeling rather embarrassed for having snapped at Severus earlier. He wasn't even sure why he had done that- perhaps because he had been thinking about the tension between them to begin with. He hadn't appreciated what he had taken as a purposely offensive remark.

"Harry," Severus said more gently, watching his face. "Can we attempt to make this a pleasant meal?"

"Well, I'm not trying to _not_ make it a pleasant meal."

Severus paused for a moment, containing what would have been an uncharacteristically sudden burst of laughter. Straightening his face, he asked in the same calm voice, "Why are you so defensive tonight?"

Harry gave little reply except for a small shake of his head, and said flatly, "Once again, I fail to come up with answer about my own behaviour. Maybe you should floo Hermione; she's much better at that sort of thing."

"I imagine it would be incredibly annoying to be told about all your thoughts and feelings from another person, as if she understands better than you do," Severus said, admittedly hoping to distract Harry. He got little reaction, however.

Harry shrugged, and said, "You get used to it after a while. It's a little comforting, actually, to know someone pays so much attention."

Severus could not imagine how anyone would find being constantly analyzed at all comforting. To him, comfort came in the form of remaining an enigma, distancing himself from those who sought to discover his secrets. He chose not to continue the conversation, for he could not understand Harry's point of view and had an idea that stating his own opinion on the matter would somehow cause Harry to take offence.

The silence gradually became more and more noticeable, causing Harry to fidget a bit in his seat. Severus could deal with uncomfortable periods of quiet; they often followed his particularly opinionated diatribes in the staff rooms and at gatherings that he was forced to attend. He went on eating dinner, while Harry sat across from him, thinking of something that would break the silence.

"So," Harry said nervously after a few moments, "nice weather today, isn't it?"

Severus snorted and set down his fork. "Hardly," he drawled, raising an eyebrow to indicate the window behind Harry. The sky was a melancholy grey, and a mist that forecasted icy rain was beginning to settle over the ground. "I can't believe you're really stooping so low as to comment on the weather," Severus added, though he did look amused.

Harry knitted his brows together and turned his head in question. "What do you mean?"

Severus let out a low laugh and silently shook his head. Harry deepened his frown, further baffled by Severus' odd response to his question. He sat in a general state of befuddlement while Severus continued with dinner, until the man looked up and noticed that he was still pondering what had been meant. Severus smiled to himself at this; it wasn't a friendly smile, nor could it be called amused- it was almost a smile of appreciation for Harry's qualities.

"I only intended to say," Severus said, finally taking mercy on his perplexed son, "that it was entertaining to watch you turn to the age old social grace of commenting on the lovely weather, even when it is an absolutely awful day, simply to avoid the ever sinister 'awkward silence'."

"Oh," Harry said lamely, feeling rather dumb for not having figured out what Severus had meant right away. He supposed he must have been more concentrated on Severus' intent than he had been on the meaning of the words.

"A letter arrived for you earlier, by the way," Severus informed him soon after, passing up the opportunity to mock Harry's lack of understanding.

This seemed to make Harry even more uncomfortable as he had been before, and perhaps a little stunned. Harry's fork clattered to his plate and he made a quick recovery, acting as though he had meant to set it down. He looked up and turned his head to the side, trying to keep his face relaxed. "Really?" he responded, scratching the back of his neck. Noticing after a moment, however, that Severus was intently watching this gesture, he stopped and jerked his hand back down to his lap. "It came this afternoon?"

Severus nodded mildly, sensing Harry's tension and attempting to be sensitive to it. "Yes, Hedwig brought it to the study window. It seems she's not yet accustomed to leaving all letters with the Elf."

Harry swallowed at this, and Severus returned his gaze to his food. He knew what Harry was thinking; he was worried about Severus' reaction, and worried that he would be questioned over the letter. Though Severus couldn't say he was pleased about his correspondence with Lupin, he certainly wasn't going to tell him he couldn't have it, and given Harry's sudden fear about his reaction, he wasn't going to interrogate him about it either. "I set the letter on your bed," he told him.

Harry nodded and relaxed visibly, though he still looked wary of Severus' intentions. He was unsure why Severus had not yet mentioned Lupin's name, nor had his expression hardened. He waited a moment, and then said carefully, "I thought you would be angry."

Severus lifted his head, expression benign. "Why would I be angry?" he questioned. Admittedly, he already had a fair idea, but that was merely supposition.

Harry looked down, and said quietly, "Well, I just thought, after what happened…"

Severus frowned and set his fork down, focusing his attention on Harry. "Harry, I am not fond of Lupin. We've already established this fact in the past, and as he is your friend, I will not torture you by reiterating it every time I am given the chance. Though I was not pleased by his actions today, I cannot use that as an excuse to limit your contact with him. It is your choice whether or not to do so."

"Does that mean you think I should?" Harry asked. His tone was not defensive; he seemed to be searching for an honest answer.

Severus sighed. At one time, he would have lied and given Harry a long list of reasons why he should cut all ties with the werewolf. However, if he was being honest with himself, that was not in Harry's best interest. "What I think shouldn't matter," he said after a moment. "However, for what it's worth, I do think it is possible to have contact with someone without believing in his or her point of view."

"So…" Harry said unsurely, narrowing his eyes and gesturing for Severus to continue.

"So, summarily, I trust you to make the appropriate decision on your own," Severus said, lifting his brows. "I will not stop you either way."

Harry seemed taken aback by this. He blinked and sat back in his chair, reflecting on what Severus has said. After a little while, he sat forward again, and started, "Thanks for not being-"

"Thank me by not finishing that sentence," Severus warned, though the smirk on his face indicated that he was more amused than irritated. Harry opened his mouth, probably to refute what he had said, but Severus waved him off dismissively. "In all seriousness, thanks are not necessary."

Unwilling to argue, Harry closed his mouth and nodded, picking up his fork and resuming the intake of his meal. Severus seemed contented when Harry dropped the subject, and feeling a bit more at ease than before, Harry relaxed his posture and reached to rip off another piece of bread. He saw Severus watching him disapprovingly as he grabbed the loaf and tore, but as he said nothing, Harry decided to finish the task anyways.

"So," Severus said, taking a sip of his dark red wine. "Did you enjoy your walk in the gardens today?"

Harry was unsure how to answer this question. To be asked about the state of the grounds had a simple enough answer: they needed work. As to his enjoyment...it had been cold, miserable, and rather lonely, but he had been fond of his time out of the house and could see this as an opportunity to ask about its history. "It was something new to do," he found himself saying, swallowing the food he had in his mouth and reaching with his sleeve up to his face to wipe off the mushroom sauce. He became suddenly conscious of his bad display of manners when Severus grimaced, and apologetically reached for his napkin, dabbing at the corners of his mouth. "Have you ever really explored them?"

Severus' expression suddenly became very serious, and he stared at Harry for only a second. He briefly nodded and continued his meal, saying nothing more. Harry frowned, having expected a more elaborate explanation. Severus was always either a man of many words or a man of few; Harry found himself disappointed that he had chosen the latter on this topic of great interest.

"You said you didn't live here as a child…" Harry prompted, looking at Severus inquisitively. The man didn't answer. "Did you visit?"

Again, he received the same curt nod, though this time it was without so much as eye contact. "Often?"

"No," Severus said in a quiet, dangerous tone. Harry hadn't expected this.

"Should I-"

"I do not wish to discuss the house," Severus said evenly, refusing to lift his eyes from his plate. His voice held no malice, but he certainly didn't sound at all pleased with Harry's probing.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, and Severus looked up almost by instinct, silencing him with a foreboding glare. Harry quickly thought better of arguing and went back to finishing what was on his plate. He was rather disappointed; he knew Severus did not like to talk about his past, but he had told Harry on occasion that he would share bits of it with him over time. Harry had hoped, stupidly, that today might be one of those times. But what had he been thinking? The way he'd used Severus' past against him the previous night, who could blame the man for wanting to keep his secrets?

Harry briefly debated whether or not the issue ought to be pushed. It was something he was interested in, but also to be taken into account was the fact that this was a matter of privacy for Severus. Part of Harry recognized that the man didn't owe him any explanations about his childhood, yet the other part of him felt that if he had shared his past with his father, he ought to be given the same courtesy.

Ultimately it was the sagacious road of discretion which Harry chose. He continued to eat his meal in silence, and placed enormous amounts of energy into the task of appearing unbothered. Little did he know; this tactic was far more effective against his father than any form of argument he might have devised.

Though Severus kept his expression stony with the intent of intimidating Harry out of asking any more questions, he soon found himself wondering when the boy would protest, and when Harry let the topic drop, beginning to feel rather guilty for expecting immaturity and opposition. Severus sighed heavily and set down his fork. "I will tell you about the house," he relented, though he still seemed disinclined to tell Harry anything, "but not over dinner, and not here."

Harry waited for Severus to tell him when and where, but when Severus resumed picking at the remainder of his meal, Harry was forced to prompt, "So, where would you like to talk then?"

Severus looked mildly annoyed as he set down his fork again and lifted his head, but nevertheless responded, "I have to make a trip to Hogwarts tonight. I need to check on the remaining students of my house and affirm that nothing has gone amiss. Perhaps we can speak there."

"So-"

"Then and only there, Harry," Severus abruptly interrupted, the snappishness of his tone suggesting that he was very close to some breaking point. "May we please conclude the remainder of this meal in silence?"

Chastened, Harry hastily bowed his head and tried to conceal the wounded expression that crossed his face. He wasn't especially hungry anymore, but felt that eating in spite of this was the wisest choice to be made.

Severus made a point of finishing before Harry and rose from the table. "Finish your meal," he instructed tiredly, irritated by the twinge of remorse he felt for snapping at Harry when he realized that the boy had taken such offence. "I need to make a few arrangements before we leave; we may well be spending the night at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded without looking up, thinking to himself that it would be nice to visit such familiar territory and that if Severus was as comforted by that atmosphere as he felt likely to be, perhaps the man's mood would improve.

As soon as Severus left the room, Harry rose from the table and headed to his room. If he was going to stay the night at Hogwarts, there were a few things he had to do before he left as well.

xxx

Though it had been only a few short days since they had been here, Harry felt as though he hadn't seen the castle in ages. For safety related purposes, Dumbledore had barred the use of the floo connections for the duration of the Christmas Holidays, therefore prompting Harry and Severus to apparate to the gates and walk up to the castle. Longer distances had been walked before, Harry supposed, but with the stiff silence that surrounded them and the cold air beating against his already dry skin, the walk was excruciatingly slow-going.

"I will walk you down to my rooms," Severus informed Harry when they finally reached the doors and slid inside the warm building. Harry nodded and looked around, rubbing his arms. "I'm going to visit my Slytherins immediately, and I'm not sure how long that will take, so you may make yourself comfortable."

"Alright," Harry agreed, following Severus down the stairs. He asked no questions and made no attempt at conversation; the last thing he wanted was to be snapped at again. He felt a bit like a sheep, treading along behind his father like this, but there was nothing for it. He was still working at keeping his father's temper at bay.

"Don't leave," Severus instructed him shortly as he unlocked the door to his rooms and stepped inside to set his things down on the table. "I don't want you wandering the castle or running up to Gryffindor tower to visit your friends before I've spoken with Dumbledore about a few things. Is that understood?"

Harry frowned, but nodded anyways. He didn't completely understand; this was Hogwarts- what harm could come to him here?

"I need to hear you say it, Harry," Severus said, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry rolled his eyes, but obliged. "Fine. I won't leave the rooms until you've spoken with Dumbledore." Severus raised his eyebrow doubtfully, and Harry added with what seemed to be complete seriousness, "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

Severus opened his mouth to respond, then suddenly frowned and snapped it shut. "What?"

Harry shook his head. "Never mind."

"So I have your word then?"

"_Yes_."

"Good," Severus said, stepping out the door again. "I'll try to be back before long."

Harry nodded with exaggerated solemnity and held his two forefingers to his head, saluting Severus as he continued to close the door.

"Hilarious," Severus said dryly, closing the door with a final snap.

Harry sat down in the nearest chair and watched the door, waiting to see if Severus would walk back through it. When five minutes passed and it seemed that Severus was gone for good, Harry felt secure enough to rise from his seat and begin exploring the quarters.

Harry had never been in here without his father before, and he found it rather strange. While he was becoming more comfortable with the thought of sharing space with his father, it was odd to be left alone in his rooms in the castle. They seemed rather empty without his presence; something was left wanting. Harry realized now that the atmosphere of these rooms was much colder and lonelier than that of the house; they were not necessarily gloomy but they were indeed dark, if not a tad gothic, in their styling.

Like the house, these rooms contained very few decorations. They were not lavishly furnished or overwhelmed by a myriad of expensive items to prove that Severus was well off, but they were, as was Severus' custom, practically and tastefully done. Harry could not find any portraits to speak of, and found himself wondering what on earth the man had against paintings.

Feeling a bit more familiarized with his surroundings, Harry wandered over to the sitting area and sat down on the couch. Shivering, he slid down to the end and peered into the fireplace. He would have liked to start a fire to kindle and heat the room, but found himself out of luck for a lack of wood. Frowning, Harry looked around for one of Severus' blankets to wrap around himself until Severus could return and tell him how to go about creating a fire with no wood.

Unable to find any blankets draped over the couch, Harry went into the room he had slept in several times throughout the school year and found folded up on the end of his bed the khaki blanket he'd become partial to using. He smiled slightly at this and lifted it off the bed, unfolding and shaking it out. He wrapped it tightly around himself and shuffled back out to the living room.

What Harry had not been expecting was to find Professor Dumbledore standing in the middle of the sitting area, smiling brightly at him. He stopped dead in his tracks, dropped his jaw and pointed at the door. "What- how did you-"

"I am the Headmaster of this school, Harry," Dumbledore informed him. "I need to know how to get around it, don't I?"

"I- what- does my father know you're here?"

"Oh, I'm sure he had an idea I might pop in," Dumbledore said evasively, taking a seat on the couch. "Won't you sit down and speak with me?"

Harry sank slowly to the couch, watching Dumbledore warily. He sincerely hoped that the man would be gone by the time Severus got here; he had an idea that Dumbledore's random appearance would put him in a far worse mood than anything else had that day, and there was still a good portion of the day left.

"So, is there something specific you wanted to talk to me about, or…?"

"Yes, actually," Dumbledore admitted, sobering slightly. "I'll get straight to the point, I suppose, as I can see you are anxious for me to do so."

"Well, it's not that I don't want to talk to you, it's just-"

"I understand; I'm not entirely sure I want to be here when your father returns, either," Dumbledore confessed, chuckling to himself. "But I did want to talk to you about what has happened over the last several days."

Harry had suspected as much. He shrugged, not knowing where to begin, or what Dumbledore wanted to hear. "What about it?" he responded in unconvincingly casual tones.

"I should like you to corroborate the story I was told, in a word," Dumbledore clarified, shifting forward to explain further. "I trust Severus, naturally. However, I want to know that both of you view the situation in… a similar way."

Ah. So he wanted to know if Severus had lied about what had happened. Uncomfortable with the notion of possibly getting his father into trouble with Dumbledore, Harry shrugged lamely. "There's not much to tell."

"I won't speak to him about any discrepancies, Harry," Dumbledore assured him, "if that makes things any better for you."

Harry nodded to show that he understood, and reluctantly began. "My friends came over that night, and wound up staying for dinner. Ginny and he argued about a few things; they were insignificant, for the most part, but I think my father took more offence than Ginny had intended. He dismissed them rather rudely, with no consideration with how I felt on the topic. I suppose I was too angry with him to realize that I was goading him, but I guess I did."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "How did Severus react to that?"

"He was patient, at first. But when I said that thing about my mother-"

"And what was that?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then paused. "You don't already know?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Severus only told me that he had reacted violently to something you had said out of anger. He never told me what that was."

"Oh," Harry uttered, stunned. He had thought that Dumbledore would have been told; it had always been Severus' custom to disparage others to make his actions seem excusable. Apparently, he hadn't used this tactic… and for that, Harry was thankful. "I think I'd rather keep that between him and me, then."

"Harry-"

"Listen; is it really necessary to know what was said as long as I freely admit he had cause to be angry?"

"You know you didn't deserve what happened, Harry," Dumbledore said, lifting his eyebrows and looking down his long, crooked nose at the boy. "No one should be manhandled like that, despite the preceding actions."

"I know that," Harry said wearily. "I don't think his actions were right; I'm just saying that I understand why he took them. Listen- is it really that important to recount the story? If you want to know something important, ask me why I decided to stay. I think he deserves a second chance; I think everyone does. He was horrified with his own actions, I know that now… and yeah, I do still feel a little uncomfortable around him now. I do worry that something like this could happen in the future. I am willing, however, to take the chance if it may also lead to a greater outcome."

It took some time for Dumbledore to consider this. He watched Harry carefully, his forehead wrinkled with the telltale lines of deep thought. Finally, he sat back again, and asked calmly, "Are you happy with him, then?"

Harry closed his eyes; he hated questions like these, he really did. He nodded his head and said carefully, "For the moment… things are improving, but still… they are still uncomfortable. But I do know that I feel safer with him than I've ever felt before. I feel like someone is there for me, not just as a friend but as someone to help me through the next few years… and maybe even after that. Those things- those things that I have missed my whole life- those make me happy."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes pensively, seemingly absorbing all of this. "I still have hope that you two will be good for each other, and clearly I think you are capable of doing so or else I would not allow you to remain with him. I want you to know, however, that if something else like this happens… you may come to me. You're almost an adult, Harry. Don't ever feel trapped by the fact that you would be replaced under the guardianship of the Dursleys, and don't worry that Severus will continue to haunt you if you choose to make such a decision."

"I don't really think he would do that… if anything, I would haunt myself over it." Harry paused then, looking suddenly confused, and asked, "Don't I have to go back to the Dursleys this summer anyway?"

"Yes," Dumbledore admitted. "But technically, as they are not your sole guardians, they can no longer refuse to let you leave if Severus should decide that you may."

"So I could come visit him this summer, then?"

Dumbledore had difficulty hiding the smile that crept up on his face at this. "Yes, you may visit him in the summer, provided he has no objections."

"I am sure I would not, Albus," Severus' voice responded, the sound simultaneous with the opening of the door. "But as grateful as I am to hear that you have finally made a decision on this matter, I must ask what on earth you are doing here in my quarters."

Both Harry and Albus rose from where they were seated, though Dumbledore's ascent was a tad more graceful and calm than Harry's clumsy leap to his feet.

"Severus," Dumbledore greeted him cordially, as though nothing was out of sorts.

"You may skip the formality, Headmaster," Severus told him, keeping his expression as level as his tone, "and answer my question. What are you doing here?"

"There's no need for hostility, Severus," Dumbledore warned. "I came to speak with Harry."

Harry got the distinct feeling that Dumbledore had been about to add something to that, but Severus spoke again before it was possible.

"You realize you needn't manoeuvre your way behind my back and into my quarters to speak with him, don't you? Aren't you always the one lecturing on using Slytherin tactics to achieve every goal?"

"Severus, I don't appreciate what you are implying."

"And I don't appreciate that you are implying that I am so unreasonable that I will not let you speak with my son. You could have easily waited for me to speak with you first, or at least knocked when you came to my rooms."

"I didn't-"

"I was alerted the moment the wards were breached, Albus. I don't even let a House Elf in here without my presence, what makes you think I wouldn't have guarded my quarters against my fellow staff?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and tilted his head to the side. "Well, my apologies, Severus, if you thought I had an ulterior motive. I assure you, I did not intend to insinuate that you were in any way unreasonable. You are, after all, such a rational man. Good day, Severus."

And with that, Dumbledore moved past him towards the door, giving Harry a small nod in his departure.

Severus stood in his place for a moment, apparently contemplating what to do. After a moment, he whirled around and made to follow the Headmaster. He didn't get far, however. Harry jumped forward and grabbed his arm from behind, trying to keep him from going.

Severus turned his head and raised his eyebrows in warning, but Harry stood his ground. "Just leave it at that," he said softly, slowly releasing Severus' arm. "It isn't worth it to go after him."

"Ah," Severus said somewhat bitterly. "Is this going to be another one of those speeches that end in my being told that I'm not proving anything?"

Harry frowned, slightly irritated that Severus would assume that. "No," he said seriously, going back to the couch. "I would just rather not see you two fight. Besides… it's almost Christmas."

This abrupt reminder captured Severus' full attention, and the poorly concealed look of hopefulness on Harry's face did not escape him. "That it is," he agreed vaguely, softening his expression and making a concentrated effort to forget his agitation with Dumbledore. He continued to stand for a moment, his gazed fixed on something undefined. Nodding as if to himself, he drifted hazily to the couch and took his seat. After a moment, he trained his dark eyes on Harry, expression indecipherable and ambiguous. He said nothing, but the normal intensity his dark eyes held was transformed into something less daunting; it was something that instantly put Harry at an inexplicable ease and almost tangibly relaxed the stiff atmosphere.

For once, Harry found himself able to meet his father's eyes. He was unsure what had occurred in that moment that had changed his demeanour with such rapidity, though he longed to learn so that he could replicate the effect at later times. The corners of his lips turned upwards into a grin that was not borne of happiness, but rather established his acknowledgement of the comfortable moment they were sharing. In that moment, there was understanding that what had been damaged could be fixed, and Harry felt safe enough to let down his guard.

"For what it's worth," Harry said quietly, "Nothing Dumbledore or anyone else has said affects the way I think about you."

"I believe we should abandon this particular topic, Harry," Severus said gently, not quite in way of rebuke, but rather in advisory.

"I know, I just… I want you to know that my opinion of you is my own. I'm not bound to let anyone change it except you."

"I suppose that can be either positive or negative," Severus commented, raising his eyebrows and dropping his gaze from Harry's face.

"If you want to know, for the most part, it's been positive."

Severus raised his eyes quickly, studying his son's face closely. He could see that the boy was sincere, though he could not determine why he would say such a thing. Had Severus not given him ample reason to doubt both his skill as a parent and worth as a person? Was it really possible that this boy was always as forgiving as this, so that even when Severus betrayed him with a most grievous offence, he could redeem himself through mere penance?

"Listen, Dad," Harry said softly, sitting forward and, in an act of both compassion and boldness, taking his father's hand in his. "I think you have a tendency towards believing that every wrongdoing has to be paid off in some way in order to receive any sort of forgiveness. But not everything is so black and white; there are certain things that can be forgiven under certain circumstances regardless of whether or not they are deserved. And just so you know, I only say that because I know you don't think you deserve a lot of the things you get; I do. You've been really good to me, apart from a few mishaps… generally speaking, this is the best I've ever had it. I think it would be easier to put this all behind us if you forgave yourself the way I do, or the way you've forgiven me. We're only human; we're not meant to be perfect. You can't revert back to this state of self-hatred every time something goes wrong."

It was amazing to Severus that so much maturity could be gained in such a short amount of time. This year had been one of tremendous emotional and mental growth for Harry, though Severus did not often realize just how greatly these things had improved. Part of him wondered if he had had a hand in that, or if it was merely a consequence of the hard life the boy had been dealt. As he looked down at their clasped hands, he realized that Harry was not the only one who might have benefited from the past year. Until now, he had not been aware of the fact that he felt no inclination to pull away from his son or negate his words. For once, he felt comfortable speaking with him on such terms, and rather enjoyed feeling so. At the same time, it seemed strange that now, after such an undulation had occurred in the formerly tranquil fluidity of the dark waters that were their relationship, they understood each other better than ever.

"You've been reflecting on this quite a lot," Severus observed quietly, giving Harry's hand a squeeze and rising from the couch.

"More than I realized, I guess," Harry admitted, glad not to have received any mordant comments about his sentiments or where they had arisen from. "But I do mean it."

"I know you do," Severus intoned, moving towards the tea pot that never seemed to rest when they were there together.

"Will you at least consider what I said?"

"Harry," Severus started, turning his head and showing an unexpected smile. "It may have escaped your attention, but I consider almost everything you say. For instance," he said, turning and holding up the tea pot. "I am considering what you said about tea tasting better coming from a traditionally heated tea pot rather than from the tip of a wand. If I take note of such trivial pieces of advice, surely you do not think that I would ignore your larger attributions of wisdom."

"You think what I said was wise?" Harry questioned, apparently stunned by this revelation.

"You're growing up, Harry," Severus admitted mildly, filling the pot. "I'm beginning to think that perhaps you ought to be given more credit than you normally receive for statements that could be considered so profound."

Harry was not accustomed to swelling with pride, but at that moment, he knew it was precisely what he was doing. He could think of few things Severus had said to him that were so akin to praise as this, and almost felt childish for feeling so elated at what he saw as a form of elaborate extolment, at least coming from this man. Secure in his deduction that any sort of response that he was likely to formulate in this moment would serve little purpose other than to embarrass his father, he resigned himself to keeping his smile contained and his glee confined within him. He crossed his legs under him and sat back against the arm of the couch, sitting in a stance that he knew looked boyish for all the approval that had just been expressed at his maturity, yet unable to care at this particular moment. For some reason, he felt confident that Severus would not judge him. It seemed odd that all at once, simply due to the commendation from his father, he suddenly felt quite untroubled and able to be himself.

Within a short amount of time, Harry's thoughts drifted to the reason he had wanted to speak with Severus tonight. In view of the things that they had just discussed, it seemed untactful to now mention a subject to which Severus was so abject. Still, he was unsure when they would return to the castle, and his father had already expressed his negative sentiments to discussing the topic of his history at the house.

Apparently, the silence spoke for itself. It prompted Severus to abruptly begin the story; Harry admittedly was not surprised by this. Severus often liked to begin difficult conversations while doing something to distract himself.

"I have told you that I was not raised in that house," Severus began, his voice neither as irritable as it had been the last time the topic had been raised, nor as mild as it had been in prior moments. "But perhaps I gave you the false impression that we never visited, or that my father found something to be wanting with the estate. Neither of these was the case.

"The house has been in the family for over two centuries. It was once a very prestigious place; it was not a castle, but it was both beautiful and terrifying in its greatness, and was widely respected by purebloods. It was given the utmost care and the name that was attached to it was given highest respect."

"So your family is pureblooded, then?" Harry interjected, intrigued by this notion.

"No," Severus said shortly, with a definitive shake of his head. "Many generations back, there was a man by the name of Etarus Snape who saw fit to break the tradition of marrying into only pureblooded families. He was the sole heir at that time, and thought to be perhaps the last of the Snape line when his mother and father were both deceased. Few women were interested in him; he had no great looks to speak of, as many of the Snape men have not, and refused to spend his inherited money. He had a philosophy that he ought to work for it himself; it seemed an insult to live off of money someone else had earned and left to him. While… noble…" Severus said with a measured amount of distaste, moving towards the couch with tea in hand, "this is hardly an attractive set of qualities to any self respecting pureblooded woman. I have been told, however, that he was one of the few romantics in our family, and had fanciful ideals on love, marriage, and the like. He was the first to take a woman who was not wholly pureblood. She was close to it, make no mistake, but she had a distant affiliation with a great muggle philosopher, and the name was so well known that her family could hardly obscure their lineage.

"Etarus was hardly concerned with the material things the Snape Manor had to offer. He released many of the house elves, bothered by their constant fawning over him and scarcely concealed disgust for his wife. Tibby was one of the elves left, and is clearly the only one that remains to this day.

"Without the masses of elves to tend to it, the house began to fall into a state of disarray, and though Etarus worked hard to keep it in a presentable state, when he passed away his wife took their four young children and moved back in with her parents. No one returned to that house for years, and only Tibby wished to stay when their mistress told them they were free to find other families. It was too large of an estate for one elf to keep, and over the next seventy years, no one returned to that house."

Severus paused to sip his tea, observing the swirls of amber liquid in his cup with a distant expression. Harry longed to prompt him to continue, but allowed his father to take his time in telling the story. It was a long winded explanation, apparently, and Harry could not demonstrate such ungratefulness as to hurry Severus along.

Feeling Harry's gaze resting on him, Severus finally looked up from his tea. His expression turned from thoughtful to sombre once more, and he reluctantly continued his story.

"Many years later, Etarus' youngest son was the one who would finally return to the house. He was the most concerned with material things of all the other children, and was intent on restoring the name Snape to prestige. He took a pureblooded Russian Witch, whose family had not learned of the tainting of the bloodline, as his wife, using a great deal of his own inheritance to pay for her. They moved back into the house, but it failed to become a home. They had a poor marriage, filled with violence and misfortune, and things became no better when they had children.

"I will not bore you with the details of the years following, but it should be noted that over time, through this line, our line became mainly pureblooded once more. Few people knew the history behind the name, and the more superficial members of my family were quite concerned with keeping it that way. The house was never restored to its original pristine state, but we were entering an era where the title of 'pureblood' had come to be attached to the darker side of Wizardry, and the sinister elements of the estate became appealing to those of our line. I do not believe that evil is inherited, but I do know that the Dark Arts have long been an unfortunate temptation for those of our line, and more than a few succumbed to its allure.

"A generation before me, there was a member of our family who resembled Etarus in every fashion. This person had a great sense of nobility, a head filled with romantic ideals of love over materialism, and a streak of kindness unheard of in the family name. There was only one thing holding this person back: she was a woman."

Harry frowned at this, and opened his mouth to voice his discontent with this notion. Severus, however, forestalled him with a raised hand, and explained, "It was a very different time, you must remember.

"My Aunt Seremis was possibly the best example of a true member of humanity with naturally good qualities in my family. As a young boy, I was taught to despise all her elements of purity and compassion, but as I grew older, I came to appreciate them far more than the hard hand of my father. Had it been a later time, she might have redeemed the Snape name in the eyes of the now mixed blood society. In this time period, however, she was forced to marry another pureblood, and though I do not think he ever treated her as unkindly as my father treated my mother, I know she was limited in the amount that she could do.

"My father," Severus continued, nearly spitting the word every time he was forced to utter it, "unlike my Aunt, could not find a decent pureblood to speak of. His own parents urged him to seek a foreign wife, and insisted that she would be best suited for him, as many of them were far more passive than the British witches of the age. He refused, however. He liked to tell others that it was because he wanted a woman with a personality; I think it was that he wanted a challenge when it came to crushing her spirit. He wanted to break her in himself.

"My father married a half-blooded witch, unaware of how intense his own father's streak of vengeance was. He was denied the inheritance of the house and the money, and it was given to my Aunt. Naturally, this created quite a bit of bitterness in my father… I'm sure it was one of the contributing factors to the way he treated my mother and I. He saw us as the reason he was robbed of his inheritance.

"As I was growing up, my father paid a great number of visits to my Aunt at that place. He would often drag my mother and me along on weekend trips, and spend the entire time attempting to persuade my Aunt to give him what was 'rightfully his'. I always dreaded those trips."

"I thought you said your Aunt was kind?"

Severus nodded. "She was. It was going home after the trips that I found so miserable. Every time my father failed, he used my mother and me as an outlet for his vehement fits of pique. Those were some of the worst times I faced as a child. The worst part of it was that my Aunt always treated me so well when I was there… and I always knew I would have to leave right after. I knew that for every kindness I was shown while in her home, it would be repaid in full when I returned to my own home… if you could call it that."

"Did your Aunt know?"

"She did," Severus confirmed, casting his gaze to the ground. "She begged my mother to let me stay with her. She couldn't have any children of her own, and she knew what I went through every time we returned."

Harry frowned deeply, and asked tentatively, "And your mother wouldn't let you stay?"

Severus shook his head bitterly, lips thinning. "I think she understood that to allow me to leave was to focus all of my father's rage on her. She tried to protect me at times, but she knew… she knew that if I wasn't there, she would receive every blow meant for me. She was not the sort of woman to sacrifice herself for another, up until the end."

"Up until the end?"

"You know this- my father killed her when she attempted to protect me one last time… I suppose he had had enough."

"I'm sorry," Harry said after a moment, not knowing what else he could offer to his father. The man kept a stoic face, and restricted his tones to the most even levels he could achieve, yet Harry knew that reliving this tale was torturing him on the inside. "You didn't deserve that."

"What's past is past," Severus said quietly, refusing to acknowledge Harry's condolences. "I ask for no sympathy, and would prefer if this topic were not raised in conversation in the near future."

Though this felt like somewhat of a rebuke, Harry could find no other response than to politely respect Severus' wishes. The two sat in silence; Harry tried not to gaze sadly at his father as not to make him uncomfortable, and Severus carefully avoided eye contact.

"I worried so much," Severus found himself saying a moment later, though he could not recall what had prompted him to speak, "that your mother and I would end up like my own father and mother."

"She was too strong willed for that," Harry assured him, only to be corrected quickly.

"You should hear the stories that are told of my mother before she was wed to my father," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "You would have said the same of her."

"But you are nothing like the man that raised you."

"Nothing, Harry?" Severus questioned sceptically, rising and moving to rest his palm on the mantle of the fireplace. "I literally threw your mother from our home when she came to me that night. I had you against the wall within seconds for an offence I should have recognized as a childish fit of temper. Tell me these things resemble nothing that man did to me. Tell me where I learned such things."

"To be perfectly fair, if the situations were reversed, I probably would have done the same thing," Harry admitted, rising and moving to where Severus stood. "Anger is… difficult to deal with, and sometimes we overreact… but it doesn't mean that you are the abusive bastard who raised you."

"Harry-"

"And don't you dare tell me to watch my language because that was completely called for," Harry quickly replied, forcing the first look of amusement he'd seen on Severus' face in quite some time. It quickly disappeared, however, and turned solemn once more.

"I have committed greater crimes than these, Harry," Severus told him, closing his eyes. "I can try, but I am not an inherently good man."

"Well, you're not inherently bad, either," Harry negated, becoming angry now. He couldn't stand to listen to his father disparage himself so. "You've done a great deal of good as well as bad- it all boils down to the choices you make. The ones you've made lately don't seem so bad."

Severus hung his head, shaking it slightly. "That doesn't erase what I've done."

"I thought 'what's past is past'," Harry challenged, raising his eyebrows. "You said it yourself."

"In case you haven't noticed Harry," Severus replied, half in good humour and half in complete seriousness, "I'm somewhat of a hypocrite."

xxx

Harry was glad when Severus and he arrived home on good terms. The day had been filled with an exhausting mix of emotions; the pleasant ones he was experiencing now were the only feelings he'd welcomed as of yet.

Severus dismissed him early, saying that it was best that both get to bed sooner rather than later. Though Harry knew Severus had no intention of lying to rest anytime soon, he was sure Severus was thinking on the same terms as he was. Things had gone well thus far this evening; it was best not to tempt fate.

Harry wandered up the stairs, thinking to himself that there was another advantage to going to bed early. Lying forgotten atop his gold duvet was Lupin's missive, and Harry was suddenly seized by a sense of anticipation and curiosity at what it contained. Remembering the nature of the message he'd sent first, part of him wondered if the contents would bring his night to a new level of contentment, or if they would bring is satisfaction to an abrupt halt.

Harry entered his room and it instantly illuminated, permitting Harry to gaze around at the warmly accented chamber. He smiled softly, realizing how much like home it was beginning to feel; he suddenly felt comforted. Closing the door behind himself, he stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. He hesitantly reached towards the rectangular envelope and picked it up, sliding onto his bed.

The wax seal had not been broken; Severus really hadn't read the letter, unless he had gone to some elaborate measures to make sure Harry wouldn't be able to find out. Though heartened by this, it was difficult to move past the feelings of anxiety dwelling within. Harry supposed the only way to lessen the apprehension, however, was simply to get it over with.

Harry slid the tri-folded piece of parchment out of the envelope, and unfolded it slowly. He scanned the page briefly, getting an idea of the tone with which it had been written. Seeing no blatantly abhorrent words, Harry was somewhat soothed. He allowed his eyes to move back up to the top, and read the letter in its entirety.

_Dear Harry,_

_I'm glad that you wrote to me. It brings me peace of mind to know that you are not as upset with me as I might have guessed, though I am bothered by your belief that I would be so condescending as to refuse to consider the fact that you may be doing the right thing in this situation, and feel the need to explain myself so that you will not think the very worst of me._

_You needn't apologize to me for your actions; I want to make that very clear. Perhaps because I was so fervent in my attempts to make you reconsider you were given the idea that I would be angry if you did not listen. At the time, I was upset that you went with him, but my anger and disappointment were not directed towards you. Upon reflection, and after speaking with Dumbledore, I have faith that you made the most appropriate decision possible at the time. I'm also proud that you are beginning to express such independence, if I may say so. It is good to see you growing up so well, Harry, and though at times I am loathe to admit it, I am beginning to think that Severus' involvement in your life has something to do with that. _

_I still want you to know that you may always come to me. Whatever you feel you need to talk about, or if you need help out of a bad situation, I am here to help and guide you should you need it. I am beginning to think that perhaps you are feeling smothered by my, and others', attempts to constantly steer you in the right direction. You must understand that in my eyes, you are still a best friend's son, and I feel the habitual need to protect you. I know that's not always what you need, but it's difficult to feel otherwise. _

_I should be seeing you on Boxing Day if you go to the Weasley's, but if I do not, I should like to hear from you soon. _

_Keep in touch,_

_R.J. Lupin _

Harry set down the letter, feeling more than slightly relieved. Not only was Lupin completely amenable to the actions Harry had taken the previous day, but any anger remaining in Harry over how Lupin had behaved was now completely absent.

Later that night, as Harry lied down to go to sleep, he thought that perhaps there was something valuable to the old truism about not going to bed angry. Apparently, it did quite a bit for one's ability to fall asleep peacefully, and Harry didn't mind that feeling at all.

xxx

Severus could not remember having enjoyed very many Christmases in the past. Lily had always shaped the day into something tolerable, perhaps even enjoyable, but they had spent a limited amount of years together and therefore very few holidays.

Today, however, was a very different day. As much as Severus was dreading certain aspects of this, there were parts he was looking forward to as well. He hadn't had any desired company present on his last decade or so of Christmases; today, he was pleased with the prospect of spending it with his son. Harry had come to develop the same instinctive skill that Lily had honed- he managed to make events such as these as gratifying and lacking as much embarrassment as possible.

In a surprisingly sanguine (if one could ever describe Severus as such) frame of mind, Severus started his morning, as usual, very early. After reading in the library to pass some time, he ordered Tibby to have breakfast ready whenever Harry awoke. He made the last preparations for the day, putting the final touches on his own gifts for Harry and placing the gifts that had arrived from others under the tree that he had, at the very last moment, finally decided to erect, only for the sake of giving Harry a Christmas like neither of them had experienced during childhood. Harry was only a year away from legal adulthood, it was true, but Severus was adamant that he might still experience some of the pleasures most children were able to enjoy.

xxx

Harry could not remember having enjoyed any Christmases he hadn't spent at Hogwarts, and he certainly could not recall having been so childishly enthused for one since first year. When he awoke that morning, he simply stared up at the canopy above his head, wiggling his toes in attempt to rid himself of the inexplicable amount of excitement with which he felt was bursting. He didn't want to rush downstairs; he would be embarrassed to admit to Severus how eager he was to begin the day. Instead, he allowed himself to stay in bed and suffer, until he decided it was late enough to rise.

Harry opened his wardrobe and pulled out a deep green dressing robe that had been there when he had arrived. He hadn't worn it up until now, simply because he was sure it was intended to represent Slytherin, but he supposed it would make Severus rather happy to see that he was using it. As he tied the robe shut, he considered the wrapped presents sitting on the shelf below his hanging clothes. He supposed that Severus would want to have breakfast and such before exchanging gifts, and that he would look rather over-zealous, running down the stairs with presents in hand.

Harry shut the wardrobe doors and exited his room, realizing belatedly that he had forgotten to put on a pair of socks to keep his feet warm. Huffing at this and turning around, as Severus would surely insist that he do so anyway, he walked quickly back into his room and put on a pair of overlarge black socks. He looked down at his covered toes and laughed a bit for no apparent reason, shaking his head to himself and leaving the room again.

As soon as Harry hit the bottom of the stairs, he caught the strong scent of various breakfast foods wafting through the air. He grinned, realizing he had been correct in assuming Severus would want to have breakfast first off. He peered into the kitchen and looked around. Breakfast was set, but Severus was nowhere to be seen. He turned around, intent on finding his father, only to realize that the man was standing directly behind him.

Unintentionally, Harry jumped a bit, a hand flying up to his rapidly beating heart. "Don't do that!" he exclaimed, warranting a laugh from his father.

"My apologies," Severus said, though he hardly sounded very repentant. "I was under the impression that you might have known I was standing behind you when you turned around. Constant vigilance, and all that."

Harry laughed lightly. "You heard about that?"

Severus shook his head, and quirked one side of his mouth upward. "You forget I've had to share a staff room with the man this year."

"No, I simply assumed you would do the wise thing and stay away from said staff room while said insane auror was in it," Harry replied smartly, raising his eyebrows in a manner not unlike his father's.

"It is, unfortunately, unavoidable," Severus said, rolling his eyes and moving past Harry into the kitchen. "Dumbledore insists on at least weekly staff meetings."

"How unfortunate," Harry said in parody of sympathy, shaking his head and casting his eyes downward.

"Truly," Severus agreed flatly, beginning to place food on his plate. "Are you planning on eating this morning?" he inquired when Harry did not follow suit.

Harry instantly grabbed a plate and began piling his own dish with food. Since such a variety of things had been provided, and he found it nearly impossible to make a choice, he opted to have at least one helping of everything. Severus watched this affair with a quirked eyebrow, but said nothing until food began rolling off the plate.

"I can ask Tibby to bring an extra plate for you, if you would like," he offered, though his proposal was more in jest than genuineness.

Blushing slightly, Harry took the hint and set down his dish. Severus tried unsuccessfully to hide a smile as he shook his head and began on his own meal.

Breakfast was, by Harry's measure, a rather lengthy event. While normally he would be perfectly content to sit at the table and indulge in trivial conversation over a waffle or two, he was rather anxious to proceed with the festivities that this special day during the yuletide season required. He tried to sit patiently, waiting for Severus to finish his breakfast. He tried to keep from fidgeting and shifting around in his seat. He tried to contain the long sighs that would frequently escape him, earning a mildly entertained look from Severus.

Severus had an idea of what his son was waiting for. Still, he was taking a certain amount of vindictive pleasure in utilizing an inordinate amount of time to leisurely finish the small quantity of food he had served himself. He wondered vaguely if Harry knew that he was staring so intently at Severus, or if he was completely unaware that he was making his wishes so very obvious.

He could not help but laugh inwardly when he set down his fork and Harry rapidly moved to rise, only to watch Severus smile and pick up his cup of tea. Watching his son's face fixedly, he raised the cup to his lips and took a long sip, then lowered it back down slowly. Another exasperated sigh escaped Harry, and Severus' smirk intensified.

"Is there something bothering you, Harry?" he asked casually, taking another protracted sip.

Harry began to shake his head, but stopped halfway through. He hesitated, seemingly debating something within, and considered Severus for a long moment. Finally, a moment later, he nearly pleaded, "Come on…. How long does it take to finish a cup of tea?"

Severus snorted and set down his cup, shaking his head. "Fine, fine, fine," he relented at last, pushing his dishes back and rising. "We'll do presents."

Harry's face broke out into a wide grin, and he quickly rose from the table. "I'll be right back," he said quickly, all but bolting from the kitchen and towards the stairs.

Severus chuckled inwardly, thinking how ironic it was that he should be spending Christmas in such a fashion. Picking up his cup and draining the last of his tea in an uncharacteristically brisk manner, he summoned Tibby and asked her to clear the table.

Severus made his way into the den to wait for Harry, observing the curiously increased amounts of gifts he'd received this year in comparison to others. He rolled his eyes, thinking that many of the people who had sent Harry gifts had simply sent him something as well in an effort to be polite. Well, that was annoying.

Cursing the sheer amount of Gryffindors with whom his son was associated, Severus sat down on the couch and pulled a blanket over his legs, wishing he'd brought his tea with him. Tilting his head at an angle from which he could see out the door, he saw that Harry was already coming through the parlour towards him, gifts in hand. Apparently, he would have to have another cup of tea later.

Harry sat down on the couch next to Severus, the silly grin that he had left the kitchen with still in place on his face. He watched Severus for a moment, who, unsure how to proceed, simply returned the observant stare.

"Happy Christmas," Harry said after a moment, grinning even wider. "I forgot to tell you."

Severus chuckled quietly. "I'm glad you told me; otherwise, I might have spent the day wondering whether it was indeed happy, or very, very sad."

"You know what I meant," Harry retorted, making a face. "Are you going to say it back?"

Severus laughed more loudly this time. "If I must. Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry nodded happily, and quickly set his gifts in Severus lap. "Open the top one first."

"You are a militant gift giver, I must say," Severus quipped, though he complied and reached for the top one first. He felt rather ridiculous, unwrapping gifts like this. Most people didn't bother to decorate his presents; after his first few years of caustic remarks about the ridiculous décor of the holidays, especially the elaborate wrapping paper and such that people foolishly spent good money on, the few gifts he received from that point on were rarely wrapped in anything. Actually, a good third of his liquor stock had been supplied on holidays such as these, and none of them had come with any decorations.

Harry, however, had taken the time to wrap his gifts in a metallic black wrapping paper, which he assumed was supposed to be in coordination with nearly everything else Severus owned, and were topped with green and silver curls of ribbon. Severus was rather glad he hadn't gone so far as to buy him animated paper or something done in the obnoxious colours of Gryffindor. Strangely, the simplicity, yet quality, of this gesture were something Severus appreciated very much.

Severus opened the first gift- a small, flat, rectangular object- carefully. He was not one to rip into the paper with vigour and excitement, but rather, took his time neatly unwrapping. What he saw when he finished surprised him very much; out of the paper emerged a book, titled, "_The Single Dad: How to Raise Your Teenage Son_". He looked up at Harry in question, and saw that the boy was laughing.

"I'm not really trying to give you a hint or anything," Harry informed him between laughs. "I found it at this new shop they've put up in Hogsmeade- most of it is just peculiar things you'd find in the muggle world, but there is some random stuff that is supposed to be useful to Wizards too. It was between this and an apron that said, "Real Men Cook Turkeys"…. But I doubted you would understand the significance of such a thing."

"I'm not sure I understand," Severus said, thinking that nothing Harry had just said to him made much sense.

"Open the book," Harry said.

Severus did as asked, flipping to a random page somewhere in the middle. What he saw there surprised him a bit. In the margins, next to the individually listed instructions on how to raise one's son, Harry had scribbled notes in the margin.

_52. Make sure you set a curfew for your son, _the book read in a tone that Severus imagined being quite pompous and presumptuous. Honestly, as if a muggle book could tell him anything useful about how to raise his son. _It is important that your child knows his boundaries, and you should be the one to set them. Make sure you don't stray from this rule, as you don't want your teenager to think that 'bending' the rules is an appropriate thing to do. _

In the margin, next to this particular piece of advice, Harry had scribbled in purple ink, _Unless, of course, your son happens to be hunted by a maniacal madman. In the instance that your son needs an extension of curfew in order to save the world from certain destruction, some exceptions might be made. _

Severus laughed and re-read Harry's input out loud. "A maniacal madman? Very nice word choice," he complimented Harry, flipping through the pages of the book.

"Well, here's what I figure. In case you ever start to miss my open defiance and the blatant arrogance I demonstrate by creating my own rules, you can open up this book, and it's all right there for you."

"How very considerate," Severus replied, smiling at the way Harry had managed to make a joke of this.

"I thought so," Harry agreed lightly, apparently pleased with himself. "Now, open the next one."

"Again with the commands," Severus grumbled. Still, he complied once more; this day was about Harry, at least to him, after all. He supposed it was not too much to ask for Harry to want to call the shots on this particular day.

"Be careful," Harry warned unnecessarily as Severus started on the next gift. "It's a bit fragile."

Severus frowned interestedly and continued to unwrap. This gift was rather large compared to the last, and he was honestly curious about what was inside. There were few things he wanted for, and so he imagined it must have been difficult for Harry to find something that he felt would suit him.

Harry watched Severus' face as he pulled out his gift, and could not help but feel satisfied when he saw the amount of amazement on his face when he realized what it was.

Severus picked up the crystal, already glowing red with Harry's magic, and looked at it in wonder. "Harry, this is-"

He didn't finish the sentence. This was an exceptionally wonderful gift, but he wondered if Harry understood the significance of this. He lifted the foggy white orb from the black velvet and inspected it, before looking down at the map. Truly, this was momentous- he was essentially being given the ultimate guide to Harry's life. "You realize… you have given me…"

"I know what it's for," Harry confirmed. "I know you'll be able to find out where I am at any given moment, yes… And I trust you. I wanted you to know that. It's practical, too… if anything were to happen, you would be the one I'd want to know first. You're the one I feel comfortable depending on… and… I don't always know how to say that. But it does mean a lot to me."

"This is… truly appreciated, Harry," Severus said softly, delicately running a thumb over the crystal. "Thank you."

Harry ducked his head, hiding a shy grin of satisfaction. He shrugged his shoulders slightly, his face heating moderately, and with quiet sincerity responded, "You're welcome."

Severus spent several more minutes contemplating the gift his son had given him, and Harry was perfectly content to sit and watch him absorb the significance of it in its entirety. He was rarely given an opportunity to truly please his father. He had always strived to please the adults around him, most likely out of an inherent desire to try and make his elders want him around, as the Dursleys never had. He aimed to please, and yet seldom felt he attained this goal.

Harry assumed that Severus felt it was time to move on when the man wordlessly rose from the couch, possibly with his mind still on the gift, and lifted a small, oddly shaped package from under the tree.

"For you," he said in mellow tones, almost benevolent compared to the harsh voice he usually used. He set his own gift to Harry in the boy's lap.

Harry lifted the present and flipped it over several times, inspecting it closely. "I wonder what this could be…" he hummed to himself, narrowing his eyes.

Severus snorted and shook his head, raising an eyebrow at his son's antics.

"I suppose I could just open it," Harry said after a moment, unwrapping the package. "Seems the more logical approa- oh!"

Severus' eyebrows lifted, almost in question, as Harry pulled out a pair of thick leather Quidditch gloves, equipped with a special grip pad on the palm and an inner lining of a warm fur which he could not identify.

"These are great," he said in awe, pulling them over his hands, even though he had no current need for them.

"I noticed you had none at the last Quidditch match," Severus said, nodding. "I thought they would be put to good use."

"They will be," Harry replied, wiggling his fingers around. "Thank you."

Severus nodded, and told him, "I do have something else for you, but you'll have to follow me to get it."

"Follow you?" Harry questioned. "Where are we going?"

"Upstairs," Severus stated, rising from the couch and waiting for Harry to do the same.

Harry frowned confusedly, but refrained from asking more questions. He silently followed Severus up to the second floor and down the hall to one of the rooms which he had never entered.

"You'll remember that I told you this room, created purely for the purpose of practicing very strong or very ancient white magic, could hardly be salvaged without several days of work?"

Harry nodded, unsure how this pertained to him.

"Well, it has taken me more than several days, and a fair number of nights… but I have restored it." Severus opened the door, revealing a room filled with only white and various symbols of purity, and a wide array of items which looked to be expensive, antiquated, and very fragile. "It is yours."

Harry was unsure whether anything had ever had such a profound impact on him- at least in such a positive sense. He stepped inside, and was shocked by the sheer power the room seemed to contain.

"You can feel it, can't you?" Severus commented quietly, though he remained on the outside. "You can obtain that power for yourself, you know."

Harry shook his head slowly in awe, viewing the room through eyes he now felt had seen few things as raw and beautiful as this.

"Will you be practicing with me in here?" Harry asked faintly, looking around.

"No," Severus answered him, leaning against the doorframe. When Harry looked at him probingly, he reluctantly expanded, saying, "The form of power I possess is too dark- it does not interact well with the magic of this room. The properties of the artefacts contained in this room make it highly volatile- it may be some time before you may practice magic in here. However, it should serve as a place for deep meditation, in which you may draw from all your inward power, until Dumbledore and I feel you are at a place where you may begin utilizing said power."

"And then…"

"This will undoubtedly be beneficial to your journey towards defeating Voldemort, do not doubt it."

"You put a lot of thought into this."

"I did."

Harry smiled and turned around, realizing that Severus looked quite gratified with his reaction. "Thank you," he said, earning a nod from Severus in response.

"My only warning is that you do not perform magic in here," Severus advised. "Nor should you enter it when your temper is at a particularly high and heated peak."

Harry, feeling that these rules were simple enough to remember and put to use, nodded in agreement. He stepped out of the room, closing the door gently, and smiling to himself. "How much of that did you have to replace, if you couldn't repair it with magic?"

Severus raised an eyebrow as if to tell Harry that he shouldn't be asking this question, pushed off from the wall, strolling back down the hallway.

"Perhaps you should start on the remainder of that pile of gifts under the tree," Severus suggested, working to keep all traces of mordancy out of his tone. "It appears to be quite a time consuming task."

"Are you going to open yours?" Harry asked. He felt it would be rather uncomfortable to open presents alone, if all Severus was going to do was sit and watch.

Severus turned to look at Harry, raising his lip into a curl that had not yet graced his face today. "Not unless I must," he replied sardonically. He couldn't think of a more miserable experience, at the moment, and he was in a mood that he'd rather not have ruined by useless gifts from people he did not like.

Harry had expected such a response. "I can wait, then."

Severus frowned and continued walking. "Aren't you… _eager_… to learn what other gifts are in store for you?"

Ignoring Severus' borderline acerbic tones, Harry replied easily, "I'm waiting until tomorrow to give my gifts to my friends, so I'm going to open theirs then as well. I already know Mrs. Weasley gave me a Weasley sweater and most likely sweets… and there's nothing more that I need than what I already have. I'd rather spend the day with you than unwrapping gifts from people I barely know."

"Ah, your followers send you Christmas gifts, then?" Severus inquired in irritation, though it was not directed at his son.

Harry wrinkled his nose, and said, "If you want to call them that."

The two did not speak again until they reached the lower floor. Severus' mood was elevating to a level of irascibility as long as they stayed on the topic of how much attention Harry received, and so Harry felt it was best to wait until the man brought up another subject.

"What do you have in mind, then?" Severus finally asked as they headed back through the hallway and into the living room.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

Severus gave a short laugh at this response. "I could personally stand a warm cup of tea and a game of Wizard's chess."

Harry smiled, and agreed, "That sounds like a great way to spend the afternoon, if you ask me."

Severus turned to Harry, assessing his sincerity. Realizing the boy was quite serious, he gestured as if to say, _suit yourself, _and said, "I keep the chess set in the study. Go and fetch it while I clear off the table in here, and we'll play."

"Alright," Harry complied, turning to leave the room. "And just so you know… I'm going to win."

Severus rolled his eyes rather than responding, and began to tidy the room. They would have to see about that.

xxx end chapter 38 xxx

AN:

I would like to thank **Rlmess, Lucie,** and **AllisonCaroll** for betaing this chapter. I would also like to thank **Lilsnape** for being somewaht of a muse to me.

Reviews would certainly be appreciated on this, my longest chapter to date (at 40 pages and about 19000 words). As always, I will tell you that I love every bit of response I get, and respond to every review that I can. I was asked about a week ago if I was an author that likes or could care less about reviews- I just want you to know that none of your feedback goes unappreciated. You all mean the world to me :).

I love you all platonically!


	39. Anecdotal Recollections

Chapter 39

Anecdotal Recollections

xxx

Out of courtesy toward Severus, Harry decided that he would wait until much later that night to open the gifts he'd received from his other friends. He had actually spent a very enjoyable, though uneventful, day with his father. Although things were still not quite back to normal between them, they managed to avoid most sensitive topics and make light conversation throughout their quiet game of chess. Harry did not mind that there was little excitement. In comparison to his past Holidays, he felt far more fulfilled as the day turned to evening. This in itself was more important than any of the gifts remaining under the tree at the end of the night.

While Severus offered to take Harry out for dinner rather than eating in once again, Harry felt that this would somehow ruin the magic of the day he'd enjoyed thus far. He and Severus seemed to agree, in the end, that a small meal would do, and they resolved not to venture out into the town. Finally settling into the house and the routines that came with living in it, Harry was finding himself reluctant to spend much time away from it since he knew he had so little in the first place.

Later that night, as the two sat quietly in the study, each content to focus on his own task, Severus heaved a long sigh and looked up from his desk at Harry, a pained expression gracing his features.

"What is it?" Harry asked, unsure whether or not it was acceptable to be amused by his father's face. That was the closest he ever had, or probably would, see Severus get to a pout.

"I have to go back to Hogwarts tonight," Severus droned wearily, removing his rarely-used spectacles from the bridge of his nose and pinching the place where they had been perched. "Again," he added, dropping his head and shaking it.

Harry frowned slightly, though he was well aware of the small smile creeping across his face in sympathy for Severus. "Anything important?"

Severus shook his head and closed his eyes, muttering something incomprehensible. "Just some Slytherin common room issues, disciplinary and such."

Harry's facial expression hardly changed, though his eyes lit up considerably. "Slytherin dramatics?"

"Not to be shared with nosy Gryffindors," Severus said in half jest, rising from his seat. "Will you be alright if I leave you here for awhile? I'll be back before long."

"I'm certain I can manage to stay out of trouble for at least a few hours," Harry quipped, shrugging. "But I make no promises."

"Ah, well, in that case," Severus said wryly, rising from his chair, "I make no promises to allow you to maintain your life if you should do anything inanely witless."

"Fair enough," Harry replied, tilting his head to the side and flipping the page in his book.

Severus quirked his lips a bit as he filed the rest of his papers into his drawers. "I am serious, though," he said a moment later, straightening the last on his desk. "Try to keep the trouble making to a bare minimum, if at all possible."

Harry waited a moment, an expectant expression on his face, until Severus finally looked up and furrowed his brow, asking, "What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me that I won't like your reaction otherwise?"

Severus narrowed his eyes disconcertedly, and Harry explained, "You usually follow statements like that with some sort of similar warning." He shrugged. "Just asking."

"Ah," Severus said, raising an eyebrow. "Well, I should think it goes without saying. Am I correct?"

"Yes," Harry responded, lowering his voice slightly and flattening his tone to one of complete solemnity. "You have ascertained the situation with total accuracy."

"Are you trying to imitate me?" Severus asked in incredulous tones.

"A little, yeah," Harry admitted, nodding.

Severus' eyes flickered to the ceiling, and he threw his cloak over his arm. "Just behave," he breathed, opening the door and stepping into the hallway. Harry laughed aloud and shook his head, returning his attention to his book.

Before long after that, Harry began to feel isolated sitting in the study by himself, and found himself too restless to complete the readings Severus had suggested he get started on. Satisfied that, having read two chapters, (including the notes Severus had scribbled into every margin in the book) he would be forgiven for giving up the task now, he took the book over to his desk and set it on the chair so that he would not forget to continue reading. He blew out the few candles lit in the room and left with no intention to return.

Though Harry had been able to wait all day to open the gifts he'd been sent, now that Severus was gone, he found himself rather curious about what he'd received from his friends. Now seemed like a better time than any to find out, he supposed.

Harry made his way into the living room and began sifting through the pile of gifts there. As he had told Severus earlier, many of the gifts were from people he barely knew, though he could hardly call them followers. Many of them were from the ministry, in an attempt to apologize for their actions the previous year.

Out of curiosity, Harry opened a small gift from one Loriea Coffen, discovering a very expensive Wizarding watch within the package. Frowning, he lifted it out and inspected it, finding the two simple words, With Admiration, inscribed on the backing of it. He rolled his eyes and tossed it carelessly into the box, shoving the rest of the unknown gifts aside. He would decide what to do with those later.

Harry did not find a gift worth opening until he stumbled across a large bundle of gifts, all sent from the Weasleys. Eying the lumpy package that was sure to contain his Weasley jumper, Harry grinned and pulled it away from the bundle. He unwrapped it quickly and slid it over his head, pleased by the familiarity of it. Though he had Severus now, it seemed important to be reminded that his relationships with others were still as strong as they'd been before. Finally, he was coming to a point in his life where he rarely felt alone.

Remaining seated on the floor, Harry leaned back against the couch and pulled an average sized box onto his lap. The package, wrapped in vibrant paper of many colours, was labelled: From Ron & Ginny.

Harry frowned thoughtfully at this, wondering what the two of them would put their heads together and come up with. Peeling back the paper, he soon found out. The box was not shiny or new, but it had written across the top in lavish scrawl, Secrecy Sensor '96. Harry grinned oddly and pulled it entirely out of the paper, flipping open the lid of the box.

Surely enough, inside, there was a device somewhat similar to the one Harry had seen in 'Moody's' office during fourth year. He remembered now his fascination with the many dark detector artefacts he'd encountered then.

"Cool," Harry commented to himself, gazing at the box for a moment before he set it aside. He continued to smile as he reached over and pulled out the rather generously sized bag of chocolate frogs that had accompanied the other gift. He unwrapped one and, before the frog could hop out of his hand, promptly stuffed the entire thing into his mouth.

Trying to chew his mouthful of chocolate, Harry continued to search through the pile until he stumbled upon Hermione's gift to him. The shape of the package was instantly a telltale sign of the present within- typically, she had bought him a book. Rolling his eyes in an almost appreciative manner for her predictability, Harry uncovered the title of the book.

_Omniscience in Sanctimonia: Niveus Veneficus_

Harry winced a little, unsure whether or not the rest of the book would be as difficult to understand as the title. He pulled down the wrapping paper just a bit more, until he located the words on the cover, 'English Translation'. Ah, always practical, Hermione had thought to give him a gift he could actually use.

Harry was unsure what the significance of the book was, but vowed to ask Severus to explain it to him later. He opened the front cover of the book, only to find a small, handwritten note from Hermione.

_Harry_, it read.

_Happy Christmas! I know you probably won't think much of the fact that I've got you a book this year, but I noticed the Professor didn't have it in his library, and I thought you ought to have a copy of this. It's really a good read, and should teach you a lot, especially considering how deeply you'll be delving into white magic._

_I hope you're still having a lovely holiday,_

_Hermione_

Harry frowned, wondering briefly just how Hermione knew how deeply he'd be delving into white magic. Even he hadn't really understood until Severus had restored the room for him- that was something tangible, something of which he could grasp the magnitude. And yet, she had understood even before he did how far it was going to go… how did she do that?

The second thing that caught Harry's attention was Hermione's closing statement. He peered at it closely, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening even further.

_I hope you're still having a lovely holiday._

It suddenly occurred to Harry that his friends had absolutely no idea what events had taken place over the past several days. He had a very difficult choice ahead of him: he could either tell his friends what had happened in hope that they would not make a horrendously big deal of it, or he could keep this to himself.

Really, he reasoned, there was no logic in stirring things up. While he trusted his friends with the most dire of secrets, this was not a matter of keeping something private. He wanted them to like and approve of his father; he doubted that would happen any sooner if they knew what had gone on between the two of them. What could they do, anyway, that would be of any help to him? He knew Hermione had a penchant for trying to solve every problem, but this was one puzzle he didn't need deciphered. As for Ron's reaction… well, he wasn't sure he wanted to see just how worked up his friend could get in one go. That was a boundary he had no desire to push.

A short while later, Harry gathered the gifts he wished to keep and pushed himself up from the ground. He briefly considered levitating the items up to his room, but since he'd really only taken interest in the gifts from his close friends, he decided it would be easier just to carry them. He stopped off in the study to set Hermione's book on top of his desk with the other readings Severus had recommended he start on, and then headed for his room.

xxx

Severus did not arrive until much later that night. He was glad when he finally walked through the front door; he supposed he could become used to coming home to a quiet house every night, rather than his empty, cold dungeon quarters at Hogwarts. It wasn't that he was ungrateful for what Albus had provided him with, but he had been residing there for years, and though it was comfortable, it had never exactly been comforting. He hadn't realized this until recently; after all, he'd almost forgotten what true comfort felt like in the first place.

Severus hung his cloak in the small coatroom and headed for the study. The house was quiet, and though he was inclined to believe that Harry would have wisely gone to bed by now, he thought it a good idea to check there before going all the way up to the boy's room to check on him.

Glad when he stepped into a dark study, Severus took a quick look around before turning back around and moving toward the stairs. He reached the upper floor and walked the long strip of hallway to Harry's room, pausing just before his hand came to rest on the handle of Harry's door. He tapped lightly on the wood, and brought his ear closer to it so that he would catch any sounds from within. When he heard nothing, he cautiously pushed the door open, sticking only his head into the room before the rest of his body followed.

Severus moved towards Harry's bed, but stopped just short of it so that the boy would not wake to his father looming over him. He watched the boy's restful form for a few moments, only now realizing how odd it was that his first thought upon arriving home had been to check on his son. He had never become accustomed to such habits, and yet, now that the boy was in his care, they were almost instinctive.

Severus watched Harry's chest rise and fall a few more times, and, secure in the notion that his son was fine, moved through adjoining door between their rooms so that he might get some sound sleep as well.

xxx

Harry was rather surprised the next morning when his eyes opened and narrowed against the sunrise, and he came to the realization that he was being gently shaken awake. He groaned slightly at the awful sensation of being torn between sleep and lucidity, and he felt the hand that had been resting on his shoulder lift.

"Good morning," he heard his father's amused voice say just before he sourly tugged a pillow over his face.

"Good morning," came the muffled reply.

Harry heard Severus laugh quietly and felt the mattress shift as the older man stood. Harry lied still, hoping in vain that his father might leave and he might be able to drift back off to sleep. After a few moments, however, he realized this was not likely to happen.

Taking the pillow off of his head and rolling over to face Severus, Harry glared up at him, though it was without much malice that he did so. "Fine, I'm awake."

"And do you know why?"

Harry glanced around warily, thinking there must be a very obvious explanation for this. Still, he couldn't recall a decent reason. "No," he admitted.

"I believe you have an engagement at the Weasleys' home today?" Severus reminded him, eyeing Harry inquisitively, as though wondering whether this would ring a bell in the boy's mind.

"Oh yeah," Harry said slowly, rolling over onto his back. "But I don't have to leave until… what time is it now?"

"Ten a.m."

"Oh," Harry said, blushing slightly and ruffling his hair. "Well, in that case…. I'd better shower."

"That would be an excellent plan of action," Severus drawled, turning and heading for the door. "Inspirational."

Harry was rather lucky that the door had closed before his launched pillow had reached its destination.

xxx

Severus ignored the loud thud of an object hitting the door behind him as he strolled away from Harry's room. He shook his head and smiled just slightly, beginning to shift his thoughts from Harry to his plans for the rest of the day.

The workroom he had been perfecting during the past week was, for the most part, complete, and required things that he could only obtain during a day long trip to the market. Still, he had held hopes that Harry would accompany him on such a day, and as the boy had prior engagements made for the current date, he would need to find something else to occupy his time.

The more Severus pondered it, the more he realized he was simply not accustomed to having time with which he could choose what to do. Even when he had been given those rare nights with little left to be accomplished, it had seemed that all the weeks of his constant activity would catch up with him at once, leaving him too worn and weary to even contemplate leaving his rooms.

Though Harry frequently caused Severus stress and headache, it wasn't as burdensome as the other sorts he dealt with on a day to day basis. Despite the problems he and Harry had been working through, he didn't find himself as tired as he usually was. In fact, he felt much better than he had in a very long time- his mood was not as heavy and dour as usual, and there was less weighing on his mind and conscience. Overall, he did not mind these changes.

Severus did not bother to ask Tibby to make breakfast, only because he justifiably assumed that Molly would be preparing an abundance of food for her guests, and Harry would be eating there within an hour. He himself could do without breakfast.

As unappealing as the task had seemed throughout the break, Severus supposed today would provide a sufficient opportunity to grade the papers he had demanded of his seventh years right before the beginning of the holiday. Though his selectivity and high demands had managed to keep his N.E.W.T. level classes relatively small in size, he found that the amount of work he required of them made the work he had to grade equivalent to the quantity of papers he had to mark for all the other years. The only highlight was that the papers were somewhat varied and of better quality, and he wasted much less red ink.

Severus resigned himself to the eventual completion of this task, and took his tea with him into the study. Ever averse to natural lighting, he pulled out his wand and ignited the various candles around the room before settling himself into the high backed chair behind his desk. Opening the bottom drawer where he remembered placing the unwelcome papers at the start of break, he pulled out the considerably large stack and set it upon his desk. The thought that he should have assigned a shorter essay crossed his mind just briefly as he spelled the papers to point out any blatant plagiarism, and pulled over the jar of red ink.

Severus bore the monotony of grading papers for quite some time before Harry surfaced again. He had just finished writing his third abrasive comment on the same essay when he looked up to see Harry standing near the wall, watching him with mild interest.

"Can I help you?" he said in a poor way of greeting, intentionally sounding annoyed at being watched.

Harry grinned just slightly and shook his head, stepping forward. Severus rolled his eyes at this; the boy was getting far too confident in his suppositions that comments such as these were meant to be taken as humorous. At the same time, it made Severus feel much more at ease when he knew the boy would perceive his sarcasm as a good natured, somewhat dry sort of wit. He could speak much more freely knowing he was not likely to offend.

"I think you should come with me today," Harry suggested, flipping out his wand and summoning the chair from across the room. At Severus' doubtful look, he added with optimism, "It could be fun."

"I don't do 'fun'," Severus said slowly, curling his upper lip at the notion. "It doesn't suit me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe you should try something new."

"Give me one good reason why," Severus said dismissively, going back to his paper marking.

"Because I'd like to see you get out of the house," Harry said, earning another sceptical look.

"Oh yes, I believe that. What is it really, Harry?"

"I thought you should…" Harry paused for a moment, his eyes moving upward in an obvious attempt to think of a quick answer, "be there to keep me from making stupid decisions?"

"Is that a question, or an answer?"

"I think you should be there to keep me from making stupid decisions," Harry said more confidently, correcting his tone.

"I doubt even I can truly prevent that," Severus remarked, re-dipping his quill in the red ink. "I'm sure you will manage to have a pleasant time without my cheerful presence."

Though Severus did not look up quickly enough to see Harry's crestfallen expression, he surmised from the silence that followed this that Harry was mildly disappointed. For the life of him, however, he could not imagine why on earth the boy would really want him to attend such an affair. Surely, he knew that Severus could not resist the temptation to taunt Lupin, nor to make underhanded insults at the unintelligent people who could not comprehend them, purely for the amusement of watching their puzzled faces as they struggled to work out what he had said. Why would anyone on earth, much less someone who knew him, want him at any sort of social gathering?

Part of Severus really did not care about the answer to this question; his own firm belief that he was not a party goer was enough to keep him rooted in his spot. However, as Harry sighed heavily and rose a moment later, reluctantly turning to leave the study, Severus found himself unable to let the boy walk away without at least hearing what he really had to say.

"Harry," Severus intoned, stopping his son in his tracks, "Tell me the truth, and I will consider it. Why do you really want me there today?"

Harry froze for a moment, rooted in his spot. Slowly, he turned around, a grimace gracing his youthful face. "Honestly?"

"No, fictitiously," Severus snipped caustically. "Yes. Honestly!"

Harry shrugged slightly and sat back down in the chair, staring at his hands. "The truth is, almost everyone has heard about us… but I don't think anyone really believes that… that this is working. I want them to see that I care for you, and that I'm not ashamed of you… and I'd like if they saw that you thought the same of me… as long as you do."

"Of course I do," Severus replied, tilting his head to the side. He had to admit, Harry had a valid point. What better way to stop everyone's talk than to prove that the two of them were getting along? Even if they'd been having their misgivings, Severus could almost guarantee that they were still exceeding the expectations of everyone who had learned through the grapevine of their newfound familial ties. "You realize I have no intention of being incredibly friendly towards anyone during this occasion?"

"As long as you are not completely hostile, I can deal with that," Harry consented, looking unsurprised.

"Define completely," Severus responded contemplatively, gaining a mildly disgruntled expression from Harry.

"And here I thought you were the king of all words," Harry said dryly, quirking an eyebrow in a manner not unlike his father's.

"I only meant in your terms, since I doubt you know the many variations such a word implies."

"You're right, I don't study the dictionary like you do," Harry replied. "But I will not apologize for that."

"Some people learn over time, Harry- they don't need a book to tell them everything."

"I know, and that's exactly why I do my best to stay away from those books."

"As is reflected in your marks at school."

"My marks have been good!"

"Satisfactory, at best."

"I've got four O's, five E's, and one A! How is that merely 'satisfactory'?"

"Four E's, two A's," Severus corrected, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. "Your last essay in Potions was not quite up to par. Your other Acceptable is in Transfiguration, Harry. Your lowest grades are in two of your most important classes. I don't really lend much credit to your earning Outstandings in classes that hardly give you any work."

"They give us work," Harry replied defensively, frowning deeply. He had not expected to be confronted about his grades just now.

"Nothing significantly challenging- I speak to the professors, Harry, you forget that."

"I don't see how this is any of your business," Harry muttered after a moment, looking away.

Severus' eyebrows lifted, and he responded, "I do hope that this is just immaturity speaking- I would truly hate to think that you are this stupid."

"What?" Harry exclaimed, indignant.

"You really don't see how this is any of my business? I'm your father, Harry, I happen to care how you do in school. I would like to see you succeed. I would like to see you earn high marks and make it into Auror training as you have long expressed a wish to do. I would like to see you accomplish your goals and feel confident about what you have accomplished. Is that such a horrible thing to desire?"

Harry's mouth opened to respond with an angry retort, but at the last moment, he bit back on it, and muttered, "No."

"You're normally much more reasonable than this. I have seen that you are capable of acting like an adult, but you are going to need to learn how to accept criticism and make the best of it. You realize this, don't you?"

"Yeah," Harry replied grudgingly, still glaring off to the side.

Severus was rather surprised by this obstinacy, to be entirely truthful. Though he worked with teenagers on a daily basis, the constant variation in their moods and levels of maturity had never seemed so complex to him. He'd always viewed the children as black and white, having too little faith in the convolution of their minds to lend credit to the fact that they might have different levels on which they could respond to different stigma.

"I had no intention of upsetting you, Harry, but you realize I would have brought this up at another time if not now."

"I understand," Harry replied, though his tone still held a very resentful connotation.

"But you are upset," Severus commented, hoping that Harry would explain why one rebuke could cause him such agony, while others seemed to be taken in with appreciation.

"I just wasn't expecting this to be sprung on me, that's all," Harry said somewhat irritably, not wanting to need to spell it out for his father. "You have to give me a little warning- time to prepare myself. When you just launch into it, it feels like an attack."

"Ah," Severus said at length, considering Harry carefully. "I must have missed that chapter in the book you presented me with."

Severus could tell that Harry wanted to allow a grin at this, but was fighting it in order to uphold his own dignity. Deciding that he wished to see Harry try even harder to fight it, he added with an amused expression, "My apologies- I'll reread and try this again."

Harry did not quite smile at this, but he put his concentration into at least keeping his lips only slightly turned upward and shook his head. "That won't be necessary."

"No?" Severus inquired, tilting his head.

"No," Harry repeated, lifting his eyes to Severus' face. "It's fine. I'll- yeah, it's fine."

"You are certainly more gracious than I," Severus said, before clarifying, "but you will try to bring up those two Acceptables." He phrased the statement more as a stern inquiry deserving of affirmation, and was pleased when Harry did not become indignant once more.

Harry considered Severus for a moment, then nodded slowly, his expression sincere but serious. "There is a test coming up a week after the Holiday in Transfiguration," he told his father. "I'll be sure to do well. As for Potions… perhaps you could show me exactly what I did wrong?"

Severus privately thought it might take less time to show the boy what exactly he didn't do wrong, but did not say so. Instead, he simply nodded in agreement, and, deciding that now was the time to end the conversation, rose from his seat. "Shall we be getting on our way, then?"

Also moving to stand, Harry agreed. Since he had already sent his gifts to his friends so that they would arrive on Christmas, he simply followed his father out to the entrance hall.

"You know, we could just floo there," Harry commented as Severus summoned and handed him his cloak.

"I would find it incredibly rude if I was a homeowner and others insisted on randomly flooing into my home," Severus replied, moving towards the door. "The front door is always the more polite approach."

Harry looked at Severus oddly, wondering where he got the impression that the Weasleys were nearly as uptight and rigid as he was. Really, it was a silly comparison to make. Harry, however, had learned a thing or two about subtlety in the past year, and wisely chose not to say another word on the matter. He obediently followed Severus out the door, and followed close behind as the man took long strides down the uneven path to the gates.

"We'll have to work on your Apparition skills," Severus remarked as he extended an arm. "By my standards, the ministry's guidelines on Apparition licensing are a bit unreasonable when considering the positions you and your peers might find yourselves in throughout the next year."

Harry's lips turned upward slightly. "Well, you can never really trust the Ministry to be reasonable on any point, can you?"

"Ah, so your experiences have taught you at least one thing," Severus declared. "I suppose that's a start."

"It wasn't a hard thing to figure out," Harry commented, just before Severus tightened his grip on his arm and they quickly disappeared.

A split second later, Harry and Severus were standing outside of the Burrow, looking up at the tall unevenly built house.

"Have you ever been here before?" Harry asked Severus, unhooking himself from his father's arm.

"On occasion," Severus admitted, smoothing down his robes. At Harry's questioning glance, he added, "Order work."

Harry nodded. "We should get inside."

"Yes, we should," Severus breathed, not sounding pleased about this. "Lead the way."

"Try to be civil," Harry warned him as he began walking towards the door.

"I promised only a lack of blatant hostility," Severus responded. "You can't change the terms of agreement now."

Harry rolled his eyes, but since he felt quite confident that Severus would not want to embarrass himself by making a scene, he could do without forcing Severus to promise him good behaviour. He had an idea that his father would take such chiding the wrong way.

The two approached the door more slowly than was necessary, not necessarily out of anxious hesitation, but rather because they knew what reactions were to greet them, and were not excessively enthused at the prospect. Though ultimately this would make an effective point to those who doubted their ability to cohabitate, much less voluntarily spend time together outside the house, it would initially be rather uncomfortable.

"I should probably step in first," Harry said, turning to Severus as they finally reached the front step.

"Why, so you can introduce me?" Severus sneered, a doubtful grimace twisting his features.

"No, so that Mrs. Weasley can greet me without feeling out of place… and so that I don't have to bear the embarrassment of you watching any such scene."

Severus' expression changed into something of amusement, and he nodded his consent and stepped to the side, where he wouldn't be seen when the door opened.

"Just step in a moment from now," Harry instructed him, opening the door and slipping inside.

As predicted, Harry met loud calls of greeting as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, followed by the suffocating embrace of Mrs. Weasley's arms. "Harry, dear, so good to see you!" she exclaimed into his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

"And still in one piece, too!" followed one of the twin's voices, earning a few familiar shouts of laughter from Harry's friends.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry said, smiling and stepping back. "You lot are really funny!"

"Did you come alone, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked him, though her pleasant expression and nonchalant way of going back to cooking suggested that she thought she already knew the answer.

"Umm, no, actually," Harry said. His voice was as casual as he felt he could keep it in this situation, but still, the noisy chatter of the room faded and several eyes turned to stare at him in disbelief.

Harry cleared his throat and managed a nervous smile, stepping back towards the door. "I- er- actually brought my- my father."

Surprisingly, a loud burst of laughter followed this statement, and Harry frowned just slightly, looking for the person from whom it was issued. His eyes settled on Ron, who was clutching his stomach and howling madly, completely unaware of the wary stares that had come to rest on him. "Oh Harry!" he gasped in between wild snorts, "You really had me for a moment there, mate! Really, that was brilliant!"

Harry almost felt more embarrassed for Ron than himself as the boy started into slow claps, looking around as though expecting everyone to join in. He seemed to be the only one who doubted Harry's sincerity.

Ron's expression slowly became more nervous as everyone continued to stare at him incredulously, and his face flushed even redder as one of his brothers loudly coughed the word, "dolt!" for everyone to hear. Hermione shook her head and slapped his arm lightly, as though trying to alert him to the fact that he was making a fool out of himself. All at once, Ron stopped his ridiculous clapping and bowed his head uncomfortably. All eyes in the room turned back to Harry, waiting for a reaction.

Wondering whether some supreme being would take mercy and allow the floor to instantaneously open up and swallow him entirely, Harry cleared his throat for the second time and forced an awkward chuckle. Unable to bear all the attention concentrated on only him, he stepped towards the door, conscious of the fact that there would be a noticeable shift of focus once his father stepped into the room.

xxx

Severus leaned against the doorpost, staring over the Weasley's front yard despairingly. He did not find this situation overly appealing, and listening to the odd sequence of events going on within, his thoughts on it only became more pessimistic. No, this was not bound to be a wonderful day.

Severus' speculations were confirmed as Harry poked his head out the door and winced slightly. He read the boy's expression in an instant: everyone was inside, and they were all waiting for him.

"I would have at least made this situation less painful for you," Severus muttered to Harry as he pushed off from the doorframe and slid inside past the boy. Harry shrugged just slightly and followed him.

The only reason that a hush did not fall over the room at the sight of the Potions Master was that no one had recovered enough from the shock to start talking in the first place. To those who had spoken with Harry directly about his father, this was not as awful a shock. To those whose imaginations had been running wild with conjecture, however, this was a great and terrible surprise.

Harry and Severus stood in front of the room, both subjected to the stares of the many people present. While Harry could formulate no thought other than one suggesting he find a way to slip inconspicuously out of view, Severus' mind was formulating a million snide comments he would have loved to dispense were it not for his son's pleas that he refrain from blatant hostility. Instead, he settled for glaring around at the room, issuing a silent challenge to anyone who would dare to question his dedication to his son in this moment. Certainly, the ones who were familiar with him would have some idea of how significant his arrival was.

The silence and tension in the room were stifling, until the screech of chair legs moving across the wooden floor and the telltale clickity-clack of boots against the ground were heard. The only one bold enough to do so, Dumbledore stepped out of the crowd, a wide grin lighting up his aged face.

"Severus," he said genially, extending both hands to grasp the other man's, "so good to see you out and about during the holidays."

Relieved by the old man's tension breaker and annoyed by his friendly greeting at the same time, Severus settled for a polite nod and a simple response. "Thank you, Albus. It's gratifying to see you as well."

Dumbledore nodded, continuing to smile, and let go of Severus' hand. "Now that everyone is here," he declared, turning to face the gatherers, "let the festivities begin!"

"You never do stop being a Headmaster, do you, Headmaster?" Severus said in low tones, smiling just slightly as he stepped forward to stand next to Dumbledore.

"I find it is best to remain in a consistent state of mind," Dumbledore responded, turning to look at Severus. He stared at him for just a moment, and then tilted his head just slightly. "I did mean it when I said it was good to see you out and about, you know. However did Harry get you here?"

Severus looked over at Harry, who had moved to join his friends the moment he crowd had dispersed, and shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure, now that I think of it," he replied. "He wanted me to… I suppose that was enough to sway me."

"My, Severus, getting soft in your old age, are you?" Dumbledore quipped, lifting his eyebrows and eyeing Severus in entertained speculation.

Severus snorted at that, and gave Dumbledore a look that could be clearly interpreted as, don't count on that.

"Still," Severus said after a moment, watching his son, "there is something about that boy that makes one reluctant to disappoint."

"You've always been reluctant to disappoint, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly. "You work hard to please everyone, unless you believe you can't, and then you pretend you don't care so that the failure to satisfy them won't bother you."

"That is a gross fabrication," Severus remarked, maintaining a relatively mild expression for all the bite in his tone.

"It's not," Dumbledore said placidly. "But if it makes you feel better to deny it, then I will allow you to remain in said denial."

"Blast it all, Albus!" Severus snapped. "Can't you maintain a conversation with me for two minutes without irritating me to no end?"

"That would be a far easier task if you weren't so irascible," Dumbledore replied easily.

A low growl escaped Severus, and he muttered, "impossible."

"That you are, my boy, that you are," Dumbledore said, patting Severus on the back and taking his leave soon after.

Peeved, Severus stood in that place in the middle of the room, glaring at no one in particular for several minutes. He rather hoped this expression would ward off any other unwelcome greeters who wished to inflict their presence on him. It worked for a good long time, until his son turned and started heading toward him, and he had to adjust his expression just slightly so that no one (including the boy, with his damned sensitivity) would get the wrong idea.

"Enjoying yourself?" Severus asked flatly as the boy approached, raising an eyebrow.

Harry lowered his eyebrows and quirked the corners of his lips, responding, "It's been about five minutes, but yes."

"That long already, really?" Severus said, mockingly lifting one of his wrists and squinting at it as if reading a watch. "Hmm, time flies when you're having such fun."

"Don't be rude," Harry reminded him, shaking his head. "Anyways… try not to look so intimidating. You're on your way to spending the entire night alone, and if that happens, I'll have to come keep you company and badger you with my annoying attempts at conversation."

"The horror," Severus responded dryly. "I was planning on finding a quiet place to sit, actually, where I will go unnoticed. You needn't worry about me."

"Good luck finding a quiet place in here," Harry said, looking around warily at the crowd. "There's quite a turnout."

"There is," Severus agreed absently, his expression deepening into a frown as he stared over Harry's head.

"What is it?"

Severus shook his head, his expression darkening. "He had better not be heading my way."

Harry's eyes widened at his father's tone, and he turned to look behind him. Headed in their direction was Remus Lupin; suddenly, Harry understood his father's displeasure.

"I know you're still upset with him-" Harry started to say, turning around, only to see his father glaring menacingly down at him.

"I will keep my promise," Severus growled, attempting not to move his lips noticeably much, "as long as you do not finish that sentence while that man is in hearing range."

"He's not-"

"Good afternoon, Severus," came a bright voice from behind Harry. Harry moved to turn around, but a hand came down on his shoulder and held him in place. "And to you as well, Harry."

Harry was not surprised when Severus' eyes flickered up to the ceiling in open annoyance. "Hello, Lupin," he drawled monotonously.

"It's good to see you here," Lupin commented. "I wouldn't have expected it."

"A sentiment which has been shared with me already," Severus sneered, more than a little put off by having this expressed to him twice. "Do try to be a bit more original, if such a feat is at all manageable for you."

By this point, Harry had managed to wriggle out of Lupin's grasp and had taken his place beside the former Defence Professor. He glanced at Lupin's confused expression, and turned to Severus. "I think he just got here, if that makes any difference to you," Harry offered, earning a dark look from the Potions Master. He shrugged apologetically, and returned to his state of silence.

Severus stared at Harry for just a moment more, and then refocused his attention on Lupin. Tired of exchanging pleasantries, if their exchange could be termed as such, he abruptly asked, "Is there something specific you wanted to waste my time with, Lupin, or are you standing here because you have some deranged and sadistic desire to carry out James Potter's personal vendetta against me by arranging yourself as the permanent bane of my existence for all of eternity?"

Harry wanted to ask Severus how long he had been waiting to use that particularly long winded string of insults, but judging by the look on his father's face, he could accurately guess that this was not a wise time to do so.

"Actually," Lupin replied after a few seconds, seemingly unperturbed, "I did have something I wished to speak with you about."

Ignoring Severus' growl of nonverbal protest, Lupin gestured to a pair of chairs on each side of a small table at a discreet location against the wall.

It was unfortunate, Harry thought, that he was not excellent at coming up with distractions on a moment's notice. If it had been one of his strengths, he might have found a way to deter both men from having any conversation at all, long before Ron and Hermione decided that this was the appropriate time to drag him off into the party. This, however, was not the case, and as he found both at his side, he began to realize that he was powerless over this situation.

"Come on, Harry, it's not healthy to spend all of your time with the adults," Ron tried to reason, as if it were common logic. "You need to have some fun."

"Do you think they'll be alright?" Harry asked doubtfully, ignoring Ron's insistent tugging at his arm.

Hermione gazed at the two for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Well," she said after a moment, "I wouldn't count on a pleasant experience for either one of them… but they're adults, Harry. I doubt it'll escalade into anything…"

"Embarrassing?"

"Ron!"

"Well, I would be embarrassed if I was Harry and my father made a scene!"

"So what? You needn't say as much!"

"You're not my mother, Hermione."

"Oh, grow up," Hermione huffed irritably, rolling her eyes and ignoring Ron's grunt of rebuttal as she turned back to Harry.

"They'll be fine," she assured him, patting his elbow comfortingly. "And even if they're not- you can't take responsibility for everything the man does."

"That's true…" Harry agreed, though he was still sceptical. Lupin was talking, now, but Severus didn't look like he was absorbing very much of what the man was saying.

Though he had verbally agreed, Harry continued to stare at the two men for a long moment, causing Ron and Hermione to exchange glances behind his back. Interpreting Hermione's slight jerks of the head in Harry's direction as a signal of some sort, Ron nodded and began pulling on Harry's elbow once more. "Anyways, some interesting things have been going on you might want to know about," Ron said, gaining Harry's attention.

Harry's inert attention focused on his father and Lupin lessened somewhat, and he turned to respond to Ron. "What do you mean?"

Ron opened his mouth to explain, but Hermione shook her head. "Not here," she instructed them, looking around at the many people milling about. "Let's take a walk."

Harry winced and looked back, and Hermione repeated once more, "I'm telling you, Harry, they will be fine. Come on."

"Yeah, yeah," Harry agreed, trying to shake off his worry. Hermione was right… or at least, he hoped she was. Everything would be fine.

Ron led Hermione and Harry to the closet where his mother had stored all the cloaks and hats of the guests, and summoned theirs from the masses.

"Good," Hermione said, throwing her cloak over her shoulders. "Now we can go outside and talk, away from all this noise."

Harry was sure that no one would overhear them anyways, given how distracted they all were with their own affairs, but he felt it would be best not to contradict Hermione on this particular issue.

The three discreetly made their way outside, and began their walk to the back of the Weasley's property.

"Dad's been working on setting up a weather dome," Ron informed the other two as they headed away from the house, far out of hearing distance. "He wasn't able to test it before today, though, so Mum wouldn't let him use it."

"What's a weather dome?" Harry inquired.

"It's sort of a warded area where the weather is different than what is outside. It's great for if you want to play Quidditch in the winter or cool off in the summer. It can be a bit expensive to find someone to put it up, but it was covered by the Order this time around."

"Why's that?"

"They reckon it'll be a good place to train younger members," Ron responded, grinning at this.

Hermione nodded. "That's part of what we wanted to tell you. They're letting us into the Order as soon as you turn seventeen."

"Why when I turn seventeen?"

"Well, seeing as how you'd tell us everything anyways, there's really no point keeping us out as well," Ron replied, shrugging. "Seems they've finally wised up to that fact."

"Still, they're not telling us much until then," Hermione said. "There are several people who are strongly advocating raising the age, and the other adults are determined not to validate their point."

"We were actually wondering if Snape had told you anything about what's been going on…" Ron remarked suggestively, trying to look innocently curious.

"What do you mean, 'what's been going on'?" Harry asked, frowning. He hadn't heard of anything new happening recently.

"Harry, something's been going on," Hermione said seriously, fixing him with a grave look.

On his other side, Ron nodded. "Dad hasn't made it home before midnight in weeks, and mum has a near panic attack every time one of my brothers gets home later than they said they would- she won't even let Ginny or me out of the house!"

Harry's frown deepened, and he said quietly, "My father hasn't said anything… have there been any order meetings lately?"

"They've started conducting them in the late hours of the night, or early morning- you're probably in bed when Snape leaves," Ron informed him. "I only know because mum insists on kissing us all goodbye before she leaves, when she thinks we're asleep."

Harry only murmured in response. Severus had promised him information on a need to know basis. Perhaps he thought that the current events were not significant enough to worry Harry over… or perhaps he had forgotten his promise. Harry wondered whether bringing the topic up again might make Severus feel as though Harry lacked faith in him. The man did have a tendency to take things the wrong way.

xxx

Severus was acutely aware of his son's watchful eyes as he moved to sit down with Lupin. With every fibre of his being he wanted to lash out at the man before him; the last time he'd looked at his face, the man had been saying that Severus was an unfit parent to Harry. No matter how much he might have agreed with that statement at the time, he still felt Lupin had overstepped his boundaries by saying so, to both his son and the Headmaster.

"Severus, I've been thinking," Lupin started out, smoothing down the fronts of his robes and looking across the table at Severus. He opened his mouth to continue, but at the very moment he did so, Severus turned his eyes upon him once more, his expression foul. Once Remus had taken that as his cue to stop speaking, Severus neutralized his expression and looked away.

"Listen, I'm going to warn you right now," said Severus, fully conscious of the fact that he was interrupting the other, and gazing straight ahead with a mild expression, making it appear as though the topic of conversation were as benign as the weather. "If you are about to speak of the events which occurred the last time we met, I may be tempted to break the promise I made to Harry to be somewhat civil during this outing. If you tempt me in such a way, and cause yet another difficulty for the two of us to overcome, I will be sorely displeased with you. Knowing that, you will do well to remember, Lupin, that I am not a kind man."

Lupin's eyebrows lifted slightly as he angled his head downward and responded mildly, "I was going to apologize, Severus. Perhaps if you were not so quick to temper, you might have realized that before wasting all that energy on yet another defensive monologue."

Severus' eyes narrowed as he returned his regard to the other man, and he growled warningly, "Lupin…"

Shaking his head, Lupin held up a hand. "There is no need, Severus. I'm not here to argue. It was not my attention to appear to be goading you, either, so I feel I must offer my apologies for that as well."

Severus considered responding, but at this point, he felt as though nothing he said would give him an advantage. A quick slant of the eyes told him that Harry had finally moved on with his friends, and he decided that perhaps he would not be sacrificing so much pride if he were to relax and allow Lupin to speak. After all, Lupin was not here to attack him- it merely made him look as though he felt deserving of an attack if he continually defended himself. Instead, Severus narrowed his eyes and folded one arm over the other, leaning back in his chair to take in what the other man was saying.

"When Harry chose to go back with you, I openly called it a mistake. I was… determined to protect the boy- I know it upsets you, but I feel a certain duty to protect him. I have since we met."

"Lupin, while this is all very touching," Severus drawled sardonically, "I really do not see what your personal conflicts have to do with me. Not once have I wondered what goes on in your head, and even now, when offered such information openly, it holds no appeal. You may think you are some complex mystery that I am just dying to solve, but-"

"Please, Severus," Lupin interrupted, an almost pleading quality to his voice, "from one guilty conscience to another. Please, allow me the opportunity to explain myself."

"Allow you to once again be the better man of this situation, you mean," Severus corrected, scowling off to the side.

"You know that's not my intention," Lupin said quietly. "I only want to do what feels right."

"Then why not tell these things to Harry? He cares about them far more than I."

"As odd as it may sound, Severus… he forgives too easily. He would happily hear my explanation and consider it fact, with no further investigation or grudges to be held. To earn your mere tolerance is a far greater sign of redemption."

"Redemption?" Severus scoffed, thinking that such a notion sounded ridiculous. "Pray tell, Lupin, what have you to be redeemed for?"

"I feel as though I have continually wronged you, Severus, I cannot deny it," Lupin admitted, a note of grievance in his voice that Severus considered highly melodramatic given the relatively unspectacular set of circumstances. "In our school years, I never helped you. When you were with Lily, I spoke only of a desire to protect her from you. And now, with your son, I feel as though I've done exactly the same thing- and while I can easily say I excuse my actions with the fact that I was partially correct in my prior thoughts about you… I wasn't. I never knew the full stories. You've always been a good man, and I rarely give you credit for that… that in itself seems a great crime, considering how many times you've proven all assumptions of your wickedness to be complete falsities."

Severus narrowed his eyes, and examined the man sitting across from him at length. After a long pause, in which Lupin was painfully aware of the unimportant events going on around their discussion, Severus spoke slowly and deliberately. "And for exactly how long did you listen to Dumbledore's blathering before you came to these conclusions, Lupin?"

Severus had not meant this to be an amusing question, but nevertheless, Lupin smiled. "You are incredibly intelligent, do you know that Severus?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Ah, well," Lupin breathed. "You are correct. I came to these conclusions after listening to Dumbledore speak at length about why he did not feel the necessity to forcibly remove Harry from your guardianship. I'll admit, when you left, I was utterly unconvinced that he had any sound reasoning other than blind faith in a man he would like to believe reformed."

"And what did he tell you?" Severus inquired, sounding relatively dispassionate for all the curiosity he had about Lupin's potential answer.

"Too many things to recall," Lupin told him. "And all were things of which I was completely unaware. I have misjudged you, all these years, Severus. When I came to Hogwarts to teach several years ago, I trusted you to remain loyal to our side… but that is because I believed you to have learned from your mistake of joining the Death Eaters, not because I suspected your intentions were ever honourable to begin with."

"To be honest, Lupin," Severus said, unsure why he should tell the man anything at all, "I'm not sure they were ever very honourable. I joined the Death Eaters because I thought it would make life easier for Lily and I during those times… it was not out of a desire to commit the crimes that I did, but I will not say that the sense of power they brought did not appeal to me. I may have never had a particularly malicious intent when I signed up, but I participated in all manners of different sins while I was with them, and I certainly didn't join out of a desire to fulfil some divine purpose for the side of the light."

"The Headmaster never asked me to believe that you went into it with completely honourable intentions… but the logic that he explained to me was far better than any purpose I had dreamt up."

"And what did you think to begin with?"

Avoiding his gaze, Lupin responded, "I thought you believed in the cause… I thought it was an act of vengeance against those who had wronged you on the other side. I thought you intended to drag Lily down with you."

While Severus would have normally resented such statements, in this moment, he could recognize them for what they truly were. They were truthful confessions, and given the context in which they were spoken, he couldn't find great sums of anger to dispense on the other man. Some part of him expected others to believe that these had been his purposes- they hadn't been, but they did make sense, if one knew little about him.

"I hope now that you realize these things aren't true," Severus said quietly, surprised at the rational tone of his own voice.

"Of course I do, Severus," Lupin intoned, frowning slightly. "That's what I wanted to tell you. If I didn't understand all these things, I would not apologize for the way I tried to prevent Harry from going back to live with you. I felt quite justified, at the time. Now, however, I can see that I was wrong."

"That is… an acceptable notion, Lupin," Severus said, only realizing afterwards that he had somehow just granted Lupin forgiveness. What an odd thought that was. "I am… I am glad to hear it."

A small smile crept across Lupin's face, and he asked, "Are you really, Severus?"

Severus shrugged just slightly, and waved a hand dismissively. "Well, it's not really that I care what you think… but Harry seems rather fond of you. I would have a rather difficult time putting up with you, if you had not shared this with me, I suppose."

A chuckle escaped the former Defence Professor, and he responded, "Thank you, Severus. You are a truly gracious man."

"Now, that might be taking things a bit far," Severus warned, though his tone was good natured at its core.

"Can I get you a drink, Severus?"

Severus rolled his eyes; how had one conversation with Lupin ended with the man asking him if he cared for a drink, as if they were friends of some sort? Still, he replied, "That would be… agreeable. I suppose it's the only way I can bring myself to tolerate the rest of this night, after all."

"Do you ever allow yourself to relax?" Lupin inquired, rising from his seat.

Severus shook his head slowly, and at Lupin's questioning expression, explained, "Old habits, and all that."

xxx

"Oye, you three!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione abruptly ceased their talking and looked up at the petite, redheaded girl hurrying down the hill.

"Mum told me to warn you of the consequences should any of you step into that dome," Ginny told them breathlessly, lowering her voice as she came closer. "And you, Ron, should know not to be anywhere near it! It's not been tested yet."

"Oh, Ginny, you know just as well as I do there's nothing wrong with it. Mum's just being paranoid, is all."

"Tell that to Edward Birkner," Ginny responded. "You know all that scarring he's got? It's what they couldn't fix after he was nearly baked in one of these things."

Ron made a face somewhere between a grimace and an expression of severe pain, and Ginny nodded solemnly. "So stay away."

"Right then," Ron said after a moment. "So, back up to the house? Think we've talked enough, anyways."

"What were you talking about?" Ginny inquired, frowning.

Ron opened his mouth to tell Ginny it was none of her business, but Hermione spoke first.

"We were explaining to Harry how everything's been acting up again," she informed Ginny, readjusting her gloves.

"Oh yeah, really bad, that," Ginny agreed. "Not sure exactly what's been happening… but whatever it is, it's got all the adults worried."

"More attacks, d'you reckon?" Harry asked her.

Ginny shrugged. "I'd think we would have heard about those, if that were the case," she said contemplatively. "No, I think it's something more profound than that."

"Well, whatever it is," Hermione breathed, leading the group back up to the house. "I hope it ends soon."

"Agreed," Ron said, taking up stride right next to her. Harry fell behind just a bit and walked behind the others, until Ginny noticed and moved back to join him.

"I wanted to thank you for the necklace you got me, by the way," Ginny told him, not the slightest bit embarrassed by it. "It was really nice."

Harry shrugged, and wished in that moment that he could keep as calm as Ginny. As usual, he could practically feel his face heating up, and he could only attempt to dismiss her gratitude. "Oh, it was nothing," he insisted, fisting his hands in his pocket and staring straight ahead.

"Oh, it was something," Ginny corrected him, causing him to lift his head up sharply. Their eyes met momentarily; Ginny's cool expression broke into a shy smile, and she quickly looked down at the ground again.

Ron's plan to slip past his mother unnoticed was not a successful one. Mrs. Weasley greeted them at the door when they arrived, a disgruntled expression on her face.

"Honestly, what were you four doing out in the snow?" Mrs. Weasley chided, dusting the snow off of all four of them and systematically gathering their cloaks.

"Talking," Ron muttered, glaring at his mother as she pulled his cloak off his shoulders.

Harry and Hermione tried to conceal their smiles as Mrs. Weasley proceeded to dry his damp hair with a kitchen towel, while Ginny took advantage of her momentary distraction by slipping off into the crowd.

Finishing with Ron and shooing him and the others off, Mrs. Weasley turned and muttered to herself, "Now, where's Ginny?"

The rest of the night was, to a certain extent, uneventful in terms of deeply involved conversation topics. The only slightly disturbing thing he'd been made aware of was the fact that Severus' birthday was fast approaching, and Harry would once again be forced to come up with another appropriate gift.

Harry found particularly comforting the absence of exchanges bordering on the edge of obscurity and pessimism, savouring the notion of spending at least one night in complete ignorance of the current events. Though he did not particularly like having things hidden from him, he was beginning to wonder if it were better that he did not realize the impending dangers.

Or perhaps that was Ron's stash of firewhiskey talking, but Harry wasn't in a state of mind to debate such things.

Harry was rather enjoying himself even as the party began to subside and people came to exchange their goodbyes. He, Ron, Ginny, and even Hermione, were all spread out on the couches, basking in their hazy, liquor induced glows. They weren't idiots, especially with a witch like Hermione in the group- they weren't quite what one would call intoxicated- even Molly Weasley would not reprimand them for having imbibed as much liquor as was in several glasses of wine, but it was certainly enough to take the edge off. Freedom from excessive thought, one could call it.

It was not until Harry looked around and saw Lupin and Severus approaching that he remembered his earlier worries about the two. A sudden panic struck him as he realized that he had forgotten to check on their progress, but after a moment, he also came to realize that clearly, nothing bad had come of it. In fact, his father's expression was quite a bit more relaxed than he had seen it in some time. Actually, come to think of it, it looked as though Severus had also been dosed with a glass of amber tranquillity.

"Harry, it's getting rather late," said Severus as he came to stand next to the couch, looking down his aquiline nose at his son. "We should be going."

Though normally Harry would acquiesce in favour of arguing like a petulant child, his relaxed frame of mind granted him apathy about such things. "Can't I stay just a bit longer?" he asked sleepily. "I'm enjoying myself."

It was clear to the few who remained in the room that the only enjoyment to be held was the simple satisfaction of spending time with his friends. There was no particular need for him to stay longer- it was a simple, spontaneous desire that those such as Molly Weasley and Remus Lupin thought was sure to be rebuffed by the stern Severus Snape, who neither cared for the whimsical entreaties of children, nor understood why such wishes should occur in the first place. He was a logical creature, and therefore was expected to act as such.

Stunningly to those in the room, however, Severus furrowed his eyebrows and considered his son for a long moment. His immediate response was not refusal, but rather one of pensive consideration. At last, he turned to Mrs. Weasley, and, folding one arm under the other, asked, "Will you see to it that he gets home safely from here?"

If ever there were a moment when Severus acted in a truly unexpected manner, it seemed to be now. Tripping over her words just a bit, Mrs. Weasley nodded, and responded, "Yes- yes, of course, Professor. I'll see that it's at a decent time, as well."

Severus nodded, his quiet gesture a signal of his gratitude. He turned back to Harry, who did not look as astonished by Severus' easy consent as others thought he would, and told him, "You are to let me know when you've arrived home, and do not go anywhere other than here tonight, is that clear?"

"Quite," Harry agreed, nodding. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Severus replied, satisfied when he turned and caught Mrs. Weasley quickly closing her mouth, apparently having been gaping at him during this exchange with his son.

"Are you Apparating home, Severus?" Lupin asked as he followed him to the door, apparently trying to gloss over his surprise.

"I am," Severus responded, though he did not take the time to turn around and address the man. "I don't particularly relish the idea of twirling through that abominable floo connection for five minutes after having several drinks."

"Ah, we're on the same page then," Lupin replied good-naturedly, continuing until he reached Molly. Placing a palm on her shoulder, he gave her a genial kiss on the cheek, and stepped back to smile warmly at her. "Thank you for tonight, Molly. It was a lovely way to top off the Holidays."

"I quite agree, Remus," she responded kindly, patting his elbow in an almost motherly sort of way.

No one was surprised when Severus did not say anything, but merely waited for Lupin together at the door. It was a bit jarring, however, to watch the two men walk out together- it couldn't be said that Severus' demeanour towards Lupin had become anything near friendly, but he was being tolerant of the man, and that was significant in and of itself.

Mrs. Weasley stared at the door for a few seconds after the two men had left, seemingly pondering something of great importance.

"Harry, dear?" she called over her shoulder, receiving only a murmur in response. Taking that as an indication to continue, she asked, "Is he always so relaxed, these days?"

"No," Harry responded, a chuckle to his voice, "But he is rather tolerant, on occasion."

"Well, then," Mrs. Weasley said, turning around and smiling at him, "It seems you've softened him up. I'd have thought it impossible."

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head against the arm of the couch, a half smile crossing his face. He did not share his disagreement with that statement- the man was austere and morose as ever, most days, and though his responses to Harry were far more placid than they had once been, it could be concluded that this was not by any means an indicator of a changing in Severus' temperament, but rather a mark of his deceased hatred for the boy. Still, he could be proud of one thing: Severus had certainly kept his promise for the night.

xxx

By Mrs. Weasley's aid, Harry did an admirable job of making it home at a decent time that night. It was just past 11 when he made it in, glad as he emerged from the fireplace that he had not had anything more to drink. Dusting himself off near the fireplace and attempting not to get any soot onto the pristine white carpet of the parlour, Harry immediately remembered his promise to check in with Severus.

As had become custom for him, he made his way to the study, where he had learned that Severus spent a majority of his time. Part of him wondered why that was; one would think that he spent enough time behind a desk during the term, and that it would be the least desirable place for him to spend his time during the holidays.

Shrugging off this notion, as it did not seem particularly important at the moment, Harry opened the door to the study and poked his head through.

"I'm home," he told Severus, who quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Clearly," Severus responded sardonically, quirking one side of his mouth into his customary half smile.

"Yeah, well," said Harry awkwardly, "Goodnight, then."

Harry moved to retreat down the hallway, but was stopped by his father's voice calling him back into the room. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" Harry responded, walking back into the room. He was a bit perplexed by the suddenly troubled expression his father's face, and was becoming increasingly worried as the man stared at him silently.

"Why don't you sit down?" Severus suggested after a moment, gesturing to a chair just off the side of his desk.

Shrugging, Harry wordlessly walked to the chair and sat down. "Alright," he said, as though it was necessary to announce that he was now seated.

"Harry," Severus said again, folding his hands atop his desk and leaning forward slightly, "I've been… considering my reaction to your asking about the house several days ago. It strikes me now that it was rather inappropriate given that I had once promised you that I would tell you what you wanted to know about the past."

Harry waited a moment for Severus to continue, and then, realizing that the man expected a response, simply replied, "Oh."

"I just wanted to inform you that you were not in the wrong for asking, and that I… welcome… your inquiries in the future, if you have them."

"Oh," Harry responded again, still not quite sure what to say. Severus nodded, and sat back in his chair, apparently also confused about how to proceed. Testing the waters a bit, Harry asked unsurely, "And what if my questions are about my mother?"

Though Severus winced at this question, he responded, "Then I will answer them accordingly, I suppose."

"Right… well, that's good to know," Harry stated gauchely, moving to rise from his seat. His main goal at the moment was to remove himself from an uncomfortable situation.

"Was there… anything specific you wanted to know?" Severus asked as the boy rose, aware of the unease they were both facing in this situation, but determined to somehow appease the part of his mind that kept telling him not to make it seem so difficult for Harry to come to him with questions and problems.

"I…" Harry faltered, turning back around and sinking back into his seat, "I don't really know enough about her to know what to ask, if you know what I mean."

"Ah, I see."

"Could you… well, you could just… tell me about her in general," Harry suggested a moment later, wishing he hadn't when he saw that familiar grimace grace his father's face.

"In general? That is a very broad topic to cover," Severus commented. Harry noted that his casual, flippant tones did not reconcile with the tight, uneasy expression on his face.

Harry shrugged slightly. "I suppose it is… well, mostly… listen, I'm about to say something that I want you to try very hard not to take the wrong way."

Severus arched one dark eyebrow, but allowed Harry to continue.

"I honestly can't figure how the two of you would end up together," Harry admitted, hurrying on to explain himself at the darkening of his father's expression. "It's just that…you hate Gryffindors. You hate bold moves and highly opinionated people. You hate to be proven wrong. If anything I've ever heard about my mother is true… it doesn't seem as though you would like her very much."

Upon hearing Harry's explanation, Severus relaxed markedly. Others had insinuated in the past that he was nowhere near good enough for Lily Evans, and it had both angered him and fed the growing monster eating away at his ego. He would not have taken it well if his son had said the same thing. However, the inquiry posed was valid; it was one that many had speculated upon in the past, but that Severus had never had the patience to answer.

For one who could easily formulate hour long lectures on the properties of moonstone being added to a fluxweed based potion, or who could instantly shred an insubordinate student with a complicated, longwinded and yet flawless and artfully constructed diatribe, Harry could not help but notice that Severus was taking an exceptionally long amount of time to compose an answer to this.

"You don't need to answer, if it's too personal," Harry offered, only to receive a sharp look from Severus.

"Of course I don't need to answer- I am not entitled to do anything," Severus snapped, only realizing after the fact that Harry had just been trying to ease his tension. Though he did not apologize after this realization, he did soften his expression apologetically, lowering his eyes to stare thoughtfully at the grain of his cherry-wood desk. This was a sensitive topic, and though the pain of everything that had happened had faded significantly once he'd learned the truth, it would be a stretch to claim it was nonexistent.

Sensing that it might be best to simply refrain from speaking until Severus found the right words to say, Harry sat quietly in his chair, fully conscious of the fact that he was exhibiting many of his habitual nervous gestures, but unable to keep himself from doing so. He was unsure how many times he ran his hand through his hair or rubbed the back of his neck before Severus began speaking again, but he knew that it was a numerous quantity.

"You are right in some aspects, Harry," Severus finally found himself saying a good while later. He continued to stare at the desk, unsure of how his emotions would escalate once he began speaking more thoroughly. He supposed if he spoke as frankly and plainly as possible, he could maintain a casual way of speaking. "In our earlier years at Hogwarts, I was far from fond of your mother. I never loathed her as I did most of the Gryffindors, particularly James Potter and his cohorts, but we were never friends. She was never particularly hostile to me, but she was a fair person, and I suppose I took her kindness for granted since it was bestowed upon everyone else in equal measure." Severus paused, and, half of his lips quirking upward into an ironic smile, said, "Actually, even if she had been kind only to me, I would have written it off as pity and disliked her for it even more.

"Lily and I were both at the top of our class, in the way of grades. My efforts were rarely acknowledged, yet it was well known that I was successful in the way of academics. We were both in the same Defence class, and during fifth year, all classes were told that every person must find a partner or be assigned one by the Professor. Your mother, while Gryffindor, recognized the value in having a partner at an equal level of intelligence. She proposed that we be partners."

"And you agreed?" Harry asked incredulously.

Severus furrowed his eyebrows sceptically, as if to ask whether Harry really needed to ask a question with so transparent an answer. "Neither quickly nor easily, no," he responded, shaking his head with an odd mixture of annoyance and fondness at the memory. "Weeks of being stalked by her in the hallways, however, and having her constantly coming up with new arguments about the supposed efficiency of our combined efforts wore me down eventually. I was tired of being bothered, and no one else wanted to be partners with 'Snivellus', so I suppose that I figured I had nothing to lose."

Harry tried to ignore the intense bitterness of his father's tone. "It didn't make you feel as if… I don't know, as if you were being used?"

"My initial reason for refusal, at the core," Severus pointed out as though that was an obvious conclusion to make. "And my reason for- snapping- at her during that memory that you invaded. I'm still amazed that she continued to try after that fact, though it took a few weeks for her to cool off."

Harry winced at the direct reminder of his intrusion of Severus' privacy during fifth year, but did not address it. "So what changed, apart from you being tired of being bothered?"

"I am Slytherin, Harry," Severus responded, a reflective lilt to his voice. "It is only fitting that I would come to admire such Slytherinesque tactics, especially from someone so Gryffindor."

That seemed logical, Harry supposed. Lips curving upward in amusement, he responded, "I see. So that was when your friendship began?"

"Hardly," Severus scoffed. "I still wasn't quite fond of her. Needless to say, that meant I wasn't very kind, either. We fought frequently and adamantly, and I could only dream of the end of the year, when we would no longer be obliged to see each other. I continued to try and push her in the other direction, and yet she seemed to find sport in continually goading me and then coming up with clever rebuttals to my insults. After some time, it became something of a game, and by the end of the year when finals came around, I had grudgingly developed something of a liking for our routine bickering."

"Wait," Harry interrupted, holding up a hand, "How is that any different from how you and say, my- James Potter interacted?"

Severus lifted his eyebrows at Harry's slip, but decided not to comment on it. He could see why the boy would still think of James as a father, and though he wasn't keen on the idea, didn't have any viable objections to it. Still, if Harry wanted to break himself of the habit, Severus certainly wasn't going to put a stop to it.

"Lily never meant it," Severus responded after a moment, the glint in his eyes wistful as he continued to gaze at the cherry wood. While his emotions were, as usual, subdued, it could be detected by the keen observer that these anecdotal recollections were stirring up a feeling of intense regret and sombreness in the man. "And I knew that. There was never any malevolence to her tone or expression- she enjoyed that someone could keep up with her. I, however, didn't realize I would miss it so much until that summer came. At first I assured myself that I would be relieved to have her out of my life, but as the days went on and I got lonelier, I came to regret having been so eager to be rid of her."

"Did you write to her, then?"

"No, actually, quite the opposite. Early July, I received a letter from her, simply inquiring how my summer was going. I answered bluntly- scathingly, even. In a few words, I responded that my mother was still missing, which I would not have shared if it had not already been a topic of quite a bit of gossip once the Daily Prophet had heard of the news- my mother came from a family that, though half blooded, was well known in the Wizarding community- and that her pity was unwelcome, if that was what she intended to give. She responded with a few choice words of her own, and so began our correspondence. It was something of a comfort, that summer… and contrary to my desires, I began to grow attached to whatever relationship we had begun."

Harry smiled at that; it was a comforting thing to hear that his father and mother had been friends firstly, for some reason unbeknownst to him. Perhaps it was that it made their relationship seem more normal, and it was a rare thing that Harry could claim something about his life or family was at all normal.

"Sixth year, we were not forced to partner up, but Lily and I continued to study together and maintain a friendship of sorts. Don't ask how that happened, because I'm not entirely sure … but gradually, it progressed into something deeper. Lily later confessed to me that she enjoyed my company at the start because I never tried to capture her affections, the way certain others did." The lifting of Severus' eyebrows and the suggestive widening of his eyes told Harry that he was referring to James. "She never felt preyed upon, or was plagued by hormone induced immaturity."

"So would that be your advice to me, then?" Harry joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Just act like you don't want the girl, and everything will work out?"

"Your mother was unique, Harry, so I'm not sure how effective a strategy that will be," Severus responded, shaking his head and smiling just slightly.

"Oh, what good are you?" Harry sighed good-naturedly, leaning back in is chair.

Severus rolled his eyes benignly, and, ignoring Harry's quip, asked, "Does that sufficiently answer your question?"

Harry shrugged, thinking that he would have expected something to finally push them together. His father was never open about his feelings unless he lost control of himself in a moment of passionate anger, from his experience, and he couldn't see the man easily admitting to Lily that he had feelings for her. He looked up at Severus, unsure how to voice this doubt without being accused of prying.

Severus' narrowed his eyes at Harry's pensive expression of unvoiced and undecided inquiry, and sighed. "You want to know if there was more to it." It wasn't a question. He was sure of the source of his son's misgivings.

Harry's eyes tapered further, and he asked suspiciously, "How did you know I was thinking that?"

"Not for the first time, I must inform you that you are incredibly predictable."

And here Harry had been thinking that his face had conveyed a mixture of thoughts too complicated to read. Ha.

"Right," said Harry, a hint of annoyance to his voice- not at Severus' statement, but at his continuous inability to make his expressions unreadable. "Well, am I right then? Is there more to it?"

Severus' face took on a grimace of indecisiveness, and he made a gesture that indicated to Harry that he had asked a question too simple for its answer. "Partially," said Severus after a moment. "When I say eventually, I do mean seventh year. And when I say that the relationship gradually progressed into something deeper, I am excluding quite a few details."

"I guessed as much," said Harry. It was a subtle way of saying that he was asking for more than that.

"If you must know," Severus started, leaning forward and placing his hands on his desk. "We were having a row when we first came to terms about our feelings for one another. It was a slip of the tongue on my part that indicated to her that I was interested in something more than friendship."

Harry had to restrain himself from smirking. So, he had been right to think that it would be a moment of passionate anger in which Severus would finally admit something that the man would normally consider so private. "What was the fight about?" Harry asked, now unable to repress his amusement.

Severus' lips were forming one thin line, a sure sign of his irritability at his son's impertinent attitude of amusement, but he answered nevertheless. "She called me stubborn."

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "What, and you'd never heard that before?"

"Of course I had. She said it more than once. The topic of discussion, however, made it seem a far more insulting thing to say."

"What was the topic?" Harry asked, knowing he was pushing his luck, but unable to stop himself before the words were out.

"James Potter," Severus admitted grudgingly, hard-pressed to unclench his teeth in order to let the words out.

"Ah, that explains it, then."

"Quite," responded Severus. "This was during that period of time when James had begun to use friendship as a means to his ends, and she was quite naïve to the fact. She had been sitting there while we studied, telling me of all the great qualities he had and how I should attempt to reconcile with him… and you could say I reached my boiling point. I informed her that she was incredibly stupid to think that all he wanted from her was friendship, and she quite vehemently responded that I was simply too stubborn to believe that I was simply wrong about him. Hence began the argument," Severus ended on a wry note, waving his hand as if to say, and there you have it.

Ah, that made sense; much more so than the simplicity with which Severus had explained it prior to this.

Perhaps it was a result of the giddiness Harry was still experiencing from the drinks he'd had at Ron's house, or the recklessness that was inherent in any Gryffindor, but on an impulse, Harry folded his hands formally on his lap and asked with methodical enunciation, "And during the course of this argument, did the two of you engage in a kiss, perhaps?"

The sudden mixture of shock and incredulity that appeared on his father's face at this question was quite worth the response he got to that. "And now it is time for you to go to bed!" Severus announced quickly, standing and pulling Harry to his feet, forcefully guiding the boy by the shoulders toward to the study door.

Despite himself, Harry laughed as he was shoved from the study, and shouted over his shoulder towards the door which had been slammed only seconds prior, "Goodnight then!"

Still chuckling to himself, Harry made his way towards the stairs, thinking as he tripped over his feet on the way there that perhaps it was a good idea that he get to bed anyways.

xxx

Despite how strongly Harry willed time to slow down, the remainder of the holidays went by rather quickly. He was surprised to find that he did not want school to resume. Severus had allowed him to see Ron and Hermione, and Ginny when she was around, several times after Boxing Day, though only Hermione was brave enough to visit him at his home. Ron was still too shaken up from his last visit, and as Ginny had been forbidden to upset the Potions Professor once again, she reasoned it was best she stay away for now, because she could make no promises.

So, here Harry found himself, waking up on the morning two days before he would have to return to Hogwarts and reflecting on how he'd accomplished very little in the time he'd had. Thinking over his plans for the day, he resolved to finish his essays once and for all, and hopefully spend the rest of the next day relaxing.

Sighing at the thought of getting back to work, Harry flopped back onto his pillows and stared blankly at the patterns of frost crystallized on the outside of the window, thinking of nothing in particular. He yawned and it occurred to him that perhaps he could go back to sleep for just a little while, since it was still early in the morning. He rolled onto his other side and, pulling the blankets up to his neck, allowed his eyes to drift closed.

Harry had not been asleep long when there was an abrupt knock on his door, and before he could respond to whoever was on the other side, the door opened and Severus stepped in.

With a sense of urgency, Severus quickly told him, "I've just received a message from Dumbledore, and I'm needed immediately by the Order. I won't be back until late tonight, and I expect you to abide by all the usual rules- stay in the house and don't do anything stupid, understood?"

Harry thought that Severus was currently utilizing all the courtesy of a giant rat nibbling on someone in his or her sleep, but because of the situation, he supposed he could understand. He responded with a sleepy nod, and muttered through a groggy yawn, "Stay in, nothing-" his jaw reflexively opened too wide for him to speak, and he finished a second later, "-stupid. Got it."

"Good," Severus said. "Tibby's put on breakfast- make sure you eat. If you're asleep when I get home I'll come and wake you to let you know I'm back." Severus briskly moved to step from the room and, apparently forgetting something, hurriedly stepped back in. "And finish your essays. Alright, I think that's all."

Harry could only blink twice before Severus was gone again, and was very disappointed that he didn't get the chance to inform the man that he had already been planning on writing the essays. Somehow, getting them done after he'd been told to made it feel more like a chore. Well, perhaps he could just leave a cliff note at the bottom of each one: _Done by own free will, not because you told me to._

Yes, that would make his point admirably.

Or it would just annoy the man.

Either way, the prospects were bright.

Harry was a bit ashamed when he did not begin his essays until one o' clock in the afternoon. Really, he mused, this habit of procrastination was getting out of control. If nor for his determination to finish everything before Severus returned home, Harry might have abandoned the attempt all together. As he had resolved and also been ordered to do, however, he sat down and wrote until the essays were completed, relatively surprised when he finished and looked up at the window to discover that it was already dark outside.

"What a waste of a day," Harry muttered to himself, throwing down his quill and placing the cork back in the jar of ink he'd been using. "An absolute waste."

He leaned back into his chair and stared at the ceiling, exhaling through the corner of his mouth.

There was still time to make something of this day, he impetuously decided after a few moments, lifting his head and glancing at the clock. It was only six in the evening, and Severus had said he wouldn't be back until late. Not to mention, he had only promised that he wouldn't leave the house.

Severus hadn't said anything about not having anyone in.

Never mind that Harry had been warned before not to have anyone over without permission… he couldn't help it if that small detail slipped his mind momentarily. Harry did briefly consider the consequences of Severus finding out… and then he realized that Severus wouldn't find out. Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley were undoubtedly at the order meeting like his Dad, and none of the other Weasleys were going to say anything to his father- they all knew it was just silly to talk to a man who so clearly despised socialization.

The essays that were the result of Harry's last reckless decision were left forgotten on the desk as he went to the parlour to floo the Weasley residence.

Harry was not particularly used to sticking his head through a fireplace to contact someone; it somehow felt invasive to pop up in someone's living room unannounced and ask to talk. Still, he had no quicker way to accomplish the task (Wizards did not use telephones), and so he resigned himself to it.

The sensation of having his head, but not the rest of his body, transported through the floo was one he thought he would never become desensitized to. Once his top half had reached its destination, he shook his head a bit to get rid of the dizziness, and then peered around at the Weasley's front room.

"Hello?" he called, frowning at the thought that no one would be home. "Hello?"

"Harry?"

Harry tried to strain and see who was calling him, but couldn't tell from his place in the fireplace.

"Harry, it's Ron- you can step on through."

"No, it's fine, Ron, just come here," Harry responded, relieved that he wouldn't have to go through a long chain of people to get to his friend. "Where's your family?"

"Big Order meeting. Ginny's upstairs with our cousin Beatrice. Horrid girl. What'd'ya want?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to pop over for a bit."

Though Harry was prepared for it, he was still amused by the way Ron's eyes bulged out of his head and the rather obvious bobbing of his adam's apple as he gulped. "Isn't- isn't Snape there?"

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking this was a stupid question. "There's a 'big Order meeting', remember? What do you think?"

"Oh, right," said Ron, visibly relaxing. "Well, don't you think he'll be rather angry if he comes home and I'm there?"

"We'll just make sure that doesn't happen," replied Harry casually. Though it had occurred to him, he simply didn't see it as a probable possibility. "He said he wouldn't be home until late, anyways. Just tell Ginny to give us a yell if your parents or brothers arrive home- they're more likely to get there before my Dad gets here, anyways."

A mischievous smile crept across Ron's face, and he nodded slowly. "Right you are, mate. I'll go tell Ginny, and then I'll come through."

"Alright," Harry agreed. "I'll step back and wait, then."

Harry withdrew his head from the fireplace and found himself once again kneeling in the parlour of his and Severus' home. Remembering that Ron would be coming through any minute, he quickly stood and stepped away from the hearth, sitting to wait expectantly on the couch.

Moments later, Ron stepped through, a wide grin set in place on his face. "Ginny's rather upset with me for leaving her alone with Beatrice," he confessed, though he did not look the least bit apologetic.

"What's so bad about her?" Harry asked, frowning. He couldn't imagine meeting a Weasley that he disliked, other than Percy.

"She's a third year from Beauxbatons," Ron breathed, coming over to join Harry on the couch. "I think that about explains it all."

Harry smiled and nodded; he knew exactly what Ron was saying. "Anything like Fleur?"

Ron's face wrinkled up into a twisted expression of disgust, and he exclaimed, "Harry, that's my cousin!"

Harry hadn't meant it to come out in the way that Ron was thinking of, but nevertheless, he could see why the comparison might be a bit unsettling, considering the obsession his friend had carried on with the flaxen haired part-Veela in their fourth year. He shrugged and sat back against the couch.

Apparently deciding that the topic was officially done being dealt with, Ron copied Harry's stance and asked thoughtfully, "So, what do you think this Order meeting is about?"

"Don't know," Harry admitted. "But I do know that whatever it is, my father seemed awfully troubled when he left this morning."

"Yeah, Mum and Dad, too," Ron concurred, brushing a wayward strand of red hair out of his eyes. "You-know-who related, you think?"

"I think that part is obvious," Harry responded. "The question is just how closely related it is."

xxx

Severus had been staring at the same spot on the wall above Dumbledore's head for the past five minutes, and Moody was still carrying on about the new safety precautions that must be taken to ensure the safety of the Hogwarts students. The most upsetting thing to Severus, and the reason that he was trying to block out the conversation by inspecting the chipping white paint that covered plaster, was that Dumbledore was actually considering the man's ludicrous ideas. 'Compromising', Dumbledore had told him was necessary after the last meeting.

Ridiculous. If Moody wanted more safety put on Hogwarts, then he could sit outside and guard the doors himself. Severus did not want to put up with a herd of aurors ushering around the school, giving themselves more authority than the teachers who rightfully commanded the corridors.

Heaving an agitated sigh through his flared nostrils, Severus leaned back into his chair and shifted his gaze to the ceiling, searching for another spot worthy of his intense scrutiny. Finding it, he continued to mull over his current situation.

Really, Severus thought, his being there was pointless. He rarely paid attention during the meetings, and ever since he'd lost his position in the inner circle, he had few things to report on, unless someone wanted an opinion on how the Death Eaters were likely to respond to a certain action. Everything he gleaned from the meetings he learned from Dumbledore afterwards, when they would have their inevitable private discussion.

Severus' attention was drawn back to the front of the room as Dumbledore finished his debate with Moody, who (much to Severus' displeasure and curiosity) looked quite satisfied with himself, and cleared his throat to address all those assembled.

"I thank you all for giving up this time today to confront the dilemmas caused by this event," said Dumbledore solemnly, making eye contact with each person at the table in turn. "I will keep you current on any related events, you can be sure of that. We will be placing higher security on Hogwarts, and I'm sure that, despite the many mistakes they have made, the ministry will take this attack on St. Mungo's for what it really is. If ever there was a time for us all to become proactive about the war, this is it- before it is too late."

The mood as everyone rose to leave the room was melancholy, the degrees of ranging emotion demonstrated by the tearstained cheeks of Mrs. Weasley to the blasé indifference of Severus' own placid expression.

While most began to file out, for Severus, this was the time when the meeting was scheduled to begin.

"Headmaster," he greeted the old man as he came to stand next to the podium from behind which Dumbledore had been speaking.

The eyes turned upon Severus were not warm and twinkling, but rather, stony and showing a touch of agitation. Though Severus knew he was not the cause of this, he also knew that considering the other man's mood, he was about to be rebuked for something.

"You might at least pretend to be listening during these meetings, you know," Dumbledore said mildly and yet icily, filing the papers he'd used into one folder.

"I might," Severus admitted, seemingly unaffected by the reproach. "However, the likelihood is not great."

"Severus," Dumbledore exclaimed in a hushed whisper, a mixture of annoyance and disbelief mingled in his tone. "This is not the time."

"Then when is, Albus?" Severus said tiredly, putting down a hand and leaning against the table. "Forgive me if I am not outwardly aggrieved by this loss, but you forget I have had to train myself not to react to these things. To let go of that control now could be detrimental."

"Detrimental to what?" Dumbledore asked. "You are no longer a spy."

"To my sanity- and thank you for reminding me, I had forgotten," Severus responded with a scowl, looking away.

"You know I do not mean to rub salt in the wound, so to speak," Dumbledore said, his tone the same but expression softened slightly. "But there does come a time when old habits must die."

"We're in the middle of a silently raging war, Albus. I do not think that it would be beneficial to kill said habits just yet."

"I have not forgotten," Albus told him, finishing his filing and stepping back from the podium. "Walk with me to the floo connection, Severus."

Severus took on an expression of deep affront at this command, but as he needed to use the floo as well, did follow the Headmaster out of the room. "Is there nothing that you should add to what you told us in the meeting?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I do not believe this is an instance where secrets ought to be kept, therefore I trust that you paid attention to the pertinent bits, because that's everything you need to know. However," he said, turning and placing a hand on Severus' shoulder as they reached the fireplace, "You should absolutely speak to Harry of this and perhaps Miss Granger as well. You see her often enough that you may do so, yes?"

"Unfortunately, yes, I do," Severus admitted. He offered no argument and asked for no explanation; he had planned on telling Harry anyways. "I will speak to them both."

"Thank you," said Dumbledore, moving to step into the fireplace. "And try to come before noon tomorrow, if you and Harry can do so on such short notice." Receiving Severus' nod of assent, Dumbledore took his fist of floo powder and threw it down to join the rest of the ashes, shouting, "Hogwarts!"

Severus stepped back and watched the Headmaster become engulfed in a whirl of green flames, and then stepped forward to follow suit. However, his destination was much different.

xxx end chapter 39 xxx

AN:

Thanks also to all my betas, Rlmess, Allison Carroll, and Cithara for their help on this chapter.

I also wanted to let you know that you can find out how I'm doing on the next chapter by joining my yahoo group, where I will certainly answer all questions, or when I remember, I do update the bottom of my profile with the date and how many pages I've written so far.

Reviews are always really appreciated! They would certainly lift my awful mood, because believe me, I am definitely in one awful mood right now. 'scowls'.

Love you all platonically, hope this chapter was satisfying!


	40. The Burdens of a War

Chapter 40

The Burdens of a War

xxx

A burst of green flame interrupted Harry and Ron's mundane conversation with a jolt. Both boys looked to see Ginny's head bobbing in the fire, her eyes watering from the sensation of having only her head travel to Harry's front room.

"Mum and Dad are just coming up to the house now," Ginny informed him in a rush. "And hi, Harry."

Harry gave a little wave, still a bit startled by her sudden appearance and unable to say anything as she was already retreating from the flames.

"Right," Ron said, jumping off the couch as Ginny's head disappeared. "I'd better hurry."

"Floo powder is right there," said Harry, pointing to the jar sitting atop the mantel. "Just grab it and throw, you know the deal."

Ron nodded and fisted his hand in the jar, unaware that several untimely events were about to occur in rapid succession. The fireplace ignited in an emerald glow once again, simultaneously with the unhappy timing of Ron's right handed pitch of grey, chalky dust into the hearth. The result was one large bang, and subsequently, the issuing of a moderately sized plume of hazy smoke from the hearth and several curse words from one rudely surprised Ron Weasley. A split second of confusion followed, in which both boys attempted to comprehend how the two events had happened right on top of each other, and why, consequently, Ron was still standing in Harry's sitting room.

Along with the smoke, however, their perplexed state of befuddlement cleared. Replacing the cloud of smog was something even more terrifying. Unfolding himself from the fireplace, Severus emerged, covered from his wool-clad chest all the way up to his creased forehead in Ron's fistful of misguided floo powder.

Horrified, Ron took a clumsy step backward, nearly tripping over the low coffee table and catching himself just before he fell. Harry instantly swung his feet off the couch and, with no amount of grace, sprang up, knowing that he would much prefer standing to sitting when his father came after him, even if the results would be the same.

Severus, however, neither reached for Ron's nearby throat, nor did he move towards Harry. Instead, he stood still for a moment, obviously in just as much shock as the boys had been seconds before. Realizing he still had a mouthful of floo powder, he promptly spit it out, opening his eyes and blinking several times before gaining the presence of mind necessary to reach up and wipe off the soot caking his face.

Severus' next action was to turn his eyes on Ron, who took another step backwards (this time minding the table). He examined the redhead closely for a second, looking almost as if he were trying to understand why he was standing there, covered in dust with this boy in his front room. He then turned to Harry, narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to deliver what would likely be a vehement and proper upbraiding, but after another moment's thought, closed it again.

He was too tired to yell. It was ironic; but he was too tired to shout.

Shaking his head as if to clear it, and resettling his dark, yet surprisingly placid gaze on his son, he intoned with deliberation, "I do believe this falls under the category of 'don't do anything stupid.'"

Harry grimaced and bowed his head, wondering what sort of tirade this was a preamble for, and when said raving might begin. He never enjoyed the raising of voices and having an angry jet of threats sent his way, but there were worse things still: such as the suspense of waiting for such things to occur, and imagining in great detail how exactly everything would unfold.

Because the pause seemed to be due to some deliberation on Severus' part, Harry, in hopes of deterring Severus from too harsh an action, continued to hang his head and affect an expression of immense guilt on his youthful face. Of course, he did feel guilty, yes—but he feared his hopefulness that Severus would take this lightly would shine through on his face far more than his remorse if he did not take precautions to avoid such a misfortune.

Severus, however contrary to Harry's expectancies, did not deliver the anticipated diatribe. Instead, he merely turned to the annoyingly frightened Weasley boy, and, with a surprising amount of control over his voice, commanded firmly, "You, boy, should be getting home. Your mother is probably having an epileptic fit by now."

Though he was by no means at the top of his year academically, Ron could recognise a reprieve when he was getting one. He nodded hurriedly and stepped quickly towards the fireplace, sparing Harry only one sympathetic glance before throwing the powder into the hearth and this time, disappearing when he shouted his destination.

Ron's absence only served to heighten the smothering rigidity of the silence that had fallen between Harry and Severus. Harry was perhaps more aversely affected by the severe quiet than his father, suddenly made enormously aware of Severus' paradoxically violent and measured pattern of breathing.

The Potions Master was staring intently at his son, wondering how it was that Harry could pull another stunt like this that he knew would upset Severus so close to their last falling out, and at the same time, marvelling at the fact that he felt more disappointed than righteously infuriated. Reasonably, he thought, this was a sign of Harry's brazen disregard for rules and even disrespect for Severus. Rationally, Severus' anger over this would be more explicable and justifiable than his surge of ire the previous week. Still, despite these factors, he was simply more annoyed than ireful.

"I'm not going to ask you what you have to say for yourself," Severus said in way of announcement, his almost gently conversational tone of voice deceiving. He watched the flicker of shame pass over his son's face, surprised when it did not satisfy him. In favour of finishing what he had to say, he refused to analyse the reason behind this and continued. "To be honest… I don't care to hear it anyway. Go to bed, Harry. In light of this event I believe it is best we save any of the talks that need to be had until morning."

Severus did not stay in the room to watch his orders being carried out. He knew that Harry would go up to his room as asked—his guilt was too great to allow him to disobey now. As for himself, he needed to take a hot shower and try to find some rest before he rose again in the morning. He could not—would not—deal with this until then.

Harry watched his father move from the room, the man's movements slowed by physical fatigue and mental weariness. Somehow, he thought, he would have preferred the shouting.

Though Harry realised it was more than slightly foolhardy to provoke Severus further, he knew he could not handle going to bed until he'd made things right, at least somewhat, with the man. It was perhaps a poor decision, but Harry followed Severus, walking quickly to catch up with him before he reached the stairs.

"Please—wait," Harry called out after him, even as Severus caught sight of him and began to ascend the stairs with more haste.

Severus stopped on the third step and turned around, giving Harry an even, and yet somehow annoyed, look.

"I'm sorry," Harry said quickly. "I know… I don't know—that is—"

"Harry," Severus breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand and leaning heavily on the iron banister with the other. "I'm sure you're feeling quite repentant, but I am in no mood to speak with you right now."

"But I—"

"_Harry_."

Harry stopped speaking and waited, wondering at the pained expression on Severus' face. "You have to understand that your apologies only mean something when you stop making the same mistakes over and over again."

Unconsciously, Harry's mouth formed a silent, _oh, _and his eyebrows lifted. Severus nodded, taking this as a sign that his point had been well taken, and turned to resume his trip up the stairs. His assumption was incorrect, however. Though wounded by his all-too-true words, Harry was not ready to give this up.

"Please—if we could just talk—:

Severus stopped moving once again, but did not turn to look at Harry. "I can't. I can't speak to you right now." He sighed heavily and lowered his eyelids "I'm going upstairs, and you're going to check that there are no candles left burning in the house, and then you are going to do the same as me. Is that clear?"

Harry nodded, knowing very well that Severus could extinguish every candle from where he stood, but that he was using this to divert Harry's attention away from him.

"Afterwards, you will need to pen Miss Granger and ask her to be here in the early morning. I shall need to speak to both of you then."

Severus did not wait for a response before taking flight once again, his climb up the stairs slow and executed in an uneven, staggering pace. It was clear that he needed the rest which he sought.

Reluctantly, Harry sighed and acquiesced, taking his left foot off the bottom stair and turning towards the study. A moment later, he turned his head over his shoulder, only to see that Severus had already vacated the landing.

Harry sighed and checked the study which he knew was dark, an oppressive weight settling on his shoulders as he unconsciously began replaying the events of the evening in his head.

xxx

On the whole, Severus was not surprised the next morning when Tibby came to him to inform him that Miss Granger had shown up on their front doorstep, accompanied by Bill Weasley. Rather than being bothered by the thought of dealing with her so early in the morning as he would normally have been, he found himself grateful for her promptness. At least, he thought, he could depend on one of these children to do what she was supposed to.

"Thank you, Tibby," Severus said, rising from his seat. "You should set out breakfast- nothing heavy, just something suitable to eat before we leave this afternoon."

"Yes, Master Snape," Tibby answered obediently, instantly disappearing from in front of Severus like any proper house elf should have done. Not for the first time, Severus found himself grateful that she was the one who had stayed on to tend the house all these years. She was an incredibly helpful elf, and not nearly as irritating as half of those who made up the population.

The previous night's fatigue had not left Severus entirely with his long dose of slumber, but then, he hadn't expected it to. As much as he would have liked to deny it, the fatigue was an inevitable consequence of the mental faculties he employed during times such as these. Though he did not mean to, he spent so much of his time analysing the constantly changing state of society and developing some sort of strategy for coping that it was exhausting, and without the work of a spy to keep his adrenaline pumping and providing a source of energy, he simply didn't know from where he could draw strength.

Further a drain on him was the pressure of dealing with Harry, especially when he complicated matters in the way that he had the previous night. He felt that perhaps if he could trust that Harry was at least prepared in terms of maturity for the war, he might not be so worn by the thought of training the boy in months to come. When he acted so immaturely, however, it only added to the stress of Severus' every day life. He would have to find some way to make Harry see this… he would have to coax the boy into developing some sense of responsibility.

"Miss Granger," Severus said easily as he approached the entrance hall, where she stood removing her clock, mittens, and scarf. Her cheeks were pink from the biting cold outside, and her teeth chattered slightly. Nevertheless, she smiled and returned his greeting, whereupon he turned to address her chaperone.

"Mr. Weasley," Severus greeted, inclining his head.

"Professor Snape," Bill returned, looking equally as cold as Hermione. "Don't mind if I use your floo to get back, do you? It's horribly chilly out there, you know."

"Not at all," Severus said, turning towards the parlour. "It's just this way. You might have used it this morning, rather than taking the walk up."

"I had thought of that, but Miss Granger was intent on arriving early, and I was unsure if you would have received my owl in time."

"Logical," Severus consented, arriving in the sitting room where the man's brother had been only the previous night. He made note to himself to write to the boy's mother and ask her to keep a closer watch on her children—he couldn't have them so frequently invading his home and taking liberties. He said nothing to Bill, however. As he had been an excellent student, this was the Weasley he minded least, even if he would never admit as much.

"Well, thank you, sir," Bill said, stepping towards the fireplace. "Hermione, I'll give your regards to my lazy brother when he finally hauls himself out of bed this morning. Sorry you missed him."

"Of course," Hermione laughed, waving as Bill moved to depart. Once he had gone, she turned to Severus. "Is this about the potion?"

"Very subtle, Miss Granger," Severus remarked dryly, shaking his head and moving past her towards the kitchen, where he saw that Tibby had set out a tray of light breakfast foods.

"I didn't suppose you'd like to hear about how my holiday has been, Professor, and that's the only other thing I've got to talk about," Hermione quipped. "But if I was wrong, please, tell me. I like a conversation just as much as the next person."

"You may spare me," said Severus, shaking his head and fixing two cups of tea. "No, this is not about the Potion, though that should also be discussed."

A perplexed frown crossed Hermione's face, but she nodded. "Should we wait for Harry?"

"No, I'll wake him—"

"It's fine," Hermione said quickly, rushing to get the words out. "I'm sure he could use the rest if he's still asleep."

Severus arched his eyebrow at this, but silently complied, coming to sit across the table from her and setting down the cups of tea he had prepared.

"Then we can speak about the potion, in the meantime," Severus provided, ignoring the direct topic of Harry for the moment. "I believe it's reaching the end of its first period of stasis."

Hermione's look of perplexity turned to one of deep concern, and she protested, "But that doesn't give us very much time…"

"No, it doesn't. Not at all."

"Will you speak to Malfoy, or will Harry?"

"It should be Harry," Severus said, though he had to admit to himself, he was, for the moment, mildly reluctant to lend the boy trust with such an important task. "He'll need to become accustomed to handling these situations himself… though I will speak with him beforehand."

"That makes sense," Hermione said, though she too looked equally unsettled about the prospect of giving Harry such an important task. "It is crucial, though, that he succeed in persuading him—"

"I'm well aware of that, Miss Granger, thank you," Severus interrupted, his tone short. He was pleased when she fell silent. Intelligent though she was, Severus disliked when she took the liberty of lecturing him on things such as the importance of Harry's success. When he wanted her opinion, he would certainly ask for it.

Apparently, however, as Hermione began speaking again several minutes later, he had not done as effective a job at silencing her as he had previously thought. He considered snapping at her once again when she began asking him about the sustaining qualities of blood's magical components, but because he found the question an interesting one to answer, he decided to privilege her with the knowledge he had to impart.

It was gratifying to be listened to, if only for once.

xxx

When Harry woke the next morning, he was surprised to find Hermione sitting in the kitchen with Severus, mulling over a cup of tea and picking at the last half of her lemon scone. She looked up brightly at him when he entered the sunny little room, and he was hit with the sharp contrast of her expression in comparison with that of his father.

Severus had been speaking to Hermione only a minute prior, but when Harry had arrived, he'd instantly stopped, reminded of their encounter the previous night. He neutralised his expression and waited for Harry to seat himself at the table.

"When did you arrive?" Harry asked Hermione, ignoring Severus' intent gaze.

"About half an hour ago."

"She insisted that we let you sleep," Severus informed him, and Harry was startled that the man was speaking to him. "You're fortunate; I would not have been so kind."

Harry was unsure whether this comment was meant to be taken seriously, or if his father had only meant it good naturedly. He breathed his laugh, knowing it sounded synthetic, and returned his attention to Hermione.

"When did you receive my letter?"

"Early this morning," Hermione answered, setting down her cup. "My parents are gone out of town for the day, so I was glad for a reason to leave the house."

"Your parents are away?" Severus questioned, looking concerned. "You should have told someone; it's not wise for you to spend your weekend alone in such times."

Though Hermione looked heartened by his concern, which Severus noticed with a touch of irritation, she casually responded, "I suppose I thought that if something were to happen, they weren't going to be of much help to me anyway. They're Muggles."

"I recognise that," Severus responded stonily, rising from his chair to pour himself another cup of tea. "Still, it's unwise."

"Dumbledore did know," Hermione said a moment later. "He didn't say much on the topic."

"The Headmaster knew and did not think to tell any of us?"

By us, both Harry and Hermione knew Severus was referring to the Order. Hermione shrugged, and admitted, "Well, he must have told some… at least, the ones on duty at my house for this weekend. He seemed to think it was better I stay there than to travel with my parents."

Severus turned around and gazed at her for a second, wide eyed as if comprehension was dawning on him. Then, with one violent shake of the head, he spat an admission of "Fool!" under his breath and went back to preparing his tea.

"Sir?"

"Never mind," Severus snapped, tossing his spoon on the counter and returning to the table. "There are more pressing matters at hand, anyway."

"More pressing matters?" Hermione inquired.

"Did you honestly think I simply asked Harry to invite you for toast?" Severus asked derisively, a familiar sneer to his expression. "You're more tolerable than most students, I'll admit, but I hardly yearn for your presence when it is not necessary."

Harry's eyes flew to Hermione's face; similar remarks had, in the past, had her near tears. This morning, however, she simply narrowed her gaze and set her jaw firmly.

"That was unnecessary," she said quietly. "And you needn't respond; I'll leave it at that. But it was unnecessary."

Severus considered snapping back at her; how dare she speak to him like this? Still, a part of him admired that she had, for once, contained her emotions. He'd watched her burst into tears or go into fits of nervousness at his similar remarks in the past, and her lack of discretion had always bothered him. Today, however, something had changed in her countenance. What, he could not quite place.

"I've asked your presence," Severus finally said, ignoring the situation entirely, "because the Order meeting last night produced some very important information, and Dumbledore has asked me to inform you of it."

Well, this was new, Harry thought. It was a rare occasion when Dumbledore actually decided to let him in on any information, let alone anything of relative importance.

Hermione's rigid look had melted into one of concerned curiosity, and she had unknowingly inched her way to the edge of her seat. Severus took a long sip of his Pu'erh Tao Cha before continuing.

"We will be concluding our holiday a day early. I have asked you here because it is a safe location from which we can leave without making our movements known."

Hermione blinked, awaiting an explanation. Harry squinted, evaluating his father's expression. "Why?"

"St. Mungo's was attacked yesterday, early—just before dawn. The boldness of this act makes the Headmaster fearful that something equally horrific could occur before the holiday comes to a close."

Hermione gasped. Harry dug his fingers into the sides of the chair, but said nothing, waiting for Severus to continue.

"We were fortunate to find that the casualties were few… but unfortunate to discover that the victims were closely associated with our own."

"Who?" questioned Hermione, her voice a whisper, as if she might break if she raised it only a fraction higher.

"The Longbottoms," Severus informed them evenly, accustomed to withholding display of emotion in circumstances such as these. "Frank and Alice Longbottom."

"Merlin," Hermione murmured, paling and rising from her seat. She moved towards the small, white-paned window and stared blankly out of it.

Harry watched Hermione walk away from the table, and murmured woefully, "Neville." A sinking feeling overtook him as he turned his wide-eyed face to the floor.

"Yes," Severus responded, nodding solemnly. "I believe that is exactly why Dumbledore preferred that I tell you rather than keeping you in the dark. Harry, you realise he'll be—"

"Set on vengeance, yes."

Hermione turned around quickly, her pale forehead creased with worry. "You don't really think he'd do something stupid for the sake of revenge?" she exclaimed. "That's not like him at all!"

"You've never lost a parent, Hermione," Harry snapped, unaware of how harsh his voice had sounded until he glanced at Severus' cautionary expression. He gave both of them an apologetic look, and said more calmly, "I'm not sure you understand what it can do to a person."

Hermione tried to relax her stance, and admitted in a conceding way, "No, I haven't. I suppose this is adding insult to injury, as well, considering…"

"Considering what had already happened to them," Harry finished, confused when Severus shook his head.

"No- considering their purpose," Severus corrected. "It is also important that you understand… the Longbottoms were among those that Voldemort could consider true 'enemies'. He couldn't have you, Harry, for the Asterisus Potion. He knows time is running out… Dumbledore has informed us that this is the reason for the Longbottoms' deaths."

A shaky whimper escaped Hermione, and she threw her hands up to her mouth, clasping her own face tightly. She shook her head disbelievingly, and Severus nodded.

"Yes, imagine knowing your parents died to be chopped up and used as Potions ingredients—"

"Oh, Merlin, stop!" Hermione cried, bringing one hand down to clutch her stomach. "…I think I'm going to be ill."

"Not in my kitchen," Severus said evenly. "Lavatory's that way." He pointed down the hall.

Harry looked at his father in shock, and Hermione gave him a look expressing how appalled she was that he could be so blunt. Still, she seemed in need of a moment alone. She shook her head and, with a slight stumble, left the room, heading in the direction that Severus had advised.

"How can you be so insensitive?" asked Harry disbelievingly.

Severus shrugged and leaned against the back of his chair. "You should become accustomed to hearing the brutal details, Harry. Isn't that exactly what you asked of me several weeks ago?"

"I asked you to let me know what was going on, not sit here and describe every graphic detail until it makes me and everyone else sick to our stomachs!"

"You asked me to help you get prepared!" Severus responded vehemently, fisting his hands and rising quickly from his seat. "This is what you are up against! This is why you need to do what I say; take my advice and start growing up! This is a war, Harry, and it is upon us. It's not just a prophecy anymore—it's happening. You need to realise that and start acting like an adult."

"I'm trying!"

"No, you are clearly not," Severus hissed in a way that was all too familiar to Harry. "If you were _trying_ you would consider my instruction far more imperative than you treat it."

"Is this about last night?"

"_Yes._ If you can't even follow simple instructions, then you aren't ready to be trained. If you can't understand the necessity of withholding your childish emotions at a time like this, then you can't be trusted to engage in the type of mental warfare that will _most certainly _be required of you. If you cannot take the truth in detail, then you certainly are not ready to witness it! None of you are: not Miss Granger, with all of her intelligence, not Mr. Weasley, with all of his blind courage, and certainly not you, with all of your disobedience."

"That's unnecessary."

"Don't try to play Miss Granger's card! That only works when you're right!"

Harry stared at his father for a moment. He stubbornly had to admit to himself that there was truth to what the man was saying. Finally, he sat down, saying, "Fine. What will it take to prove to you that I'm ready? Because I am. I'm ready to be trained. I'm ready to be told the truth."

"Find a way to fix this," Severus instructed simply, stepping away from the table and towards the door.

"What do you mean?"

"You must put serious consideration into what I am telling you and come to your own conclusion. I do not care how; you must adjust the way you think and behave accordingly."

Harry folded his arms against his chest and stared fixedly at the table. After a moment, Severus seemed to decide that his lecture had reached its close.

"Have your bags packed by eleven," he said cooly, his features smoothing into a neutral expression as he straightened his robes, "and tell Miss Granger that someone will be sent to her house to collect everything she needs."

"Who?" Hermione asked, reappearing at the door, looking mildly better than she had ten minutes before.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Severus said, his tone of voice suggesting that nothing had happened in her absence. "I'm told it will be either Nymphadora Tonks or Hestia Jones. If you want to make a list of what you need, I will be glad to pass it along."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to hand it to them myself."

Severus tilted his head to the side in concession, though his singularly arched brow indicated he thought this request rather silly. "I wasn't planning on looking at it, but if you insist, I will have the Auror meet us at Hogwarts and you may speak to her there."

"Thank you," Hermione said, nodding her gratitude.

Severus dismissed himself from the room a second later, and once Hermione was sure he had gone, she turned back to Harry.

"How can you act as if nothing happened?" Harry asked her as she sat down again at the table.

"I'm not acting like nothing happened, Harry… but I was standing around the corner for a good portion of that… erm, confrontation," she admitted. "He does have a point."

"Oh, great, you too," Harry muttered, slumping down in his chair.

"Harry," Hermione said gently, if not with a touch of annoyance, "Harsh as he may be, Professor Snape's intelligence far exceeds our own. Maybe he's not always rational… but he's not survived this long due to luck. He knows what he's talking about. Perhaps we do need to toughen up."

"Always the voice of reason, aren't you?" asked Harry grudgingly.

"Oh, don't give me that," Hermione scolded, narrowing her eyes. "You just don't like that I'm right. And I am."

"Very modest, Hermione."

"I don't need to be," she replied. "These are just facts."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, and then stopped himself. "Yeah, I suppose so," he sighed.

"Well, I'm glad we at least agree on that."

"Yeah," said Harry, correcting his posture. "When did you start… standing up to him, anyway?"

A flush stole over Hermione's lightly freckled cheeks, and she shrugged. "You know, I've been watching you two the past few times I've been here… and I've come to a conclusion."

"And that is?"

"The Professor's bark is much worse than his bite."

Harry laughed loudly at this, and expressed his disagreement. "I wouldn't say that. It's just that he doesn't bite as often as one might expect."

"Yes, that is more accurate," Hermione agreed with a quirk of her lips. "But I do think I can respect him without fearing him, if you understand what I mean."

"I do," Harry agreed.

Both raised their eyes, and their gazes locked for a moment. Then, almost as if the sight of the other's happy face reminded each of them that the current circumstances were too grave to allow themselves jubilance, both quickly dropped their eyes again, expressions sobering.

"Anyway," said Hermione after a moment, habitually smoothing down her jeans the way she would have her skirt had she been in uniform, "You should start packing. I'm sure the Professor will want to leave promptly."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Do you want to come with me, or stay here and finish your tea?"

Hermione shrugged, and said, "I'll just come up and keep you company." She looked down and touched her cup, which was still halfway full. "It's cold, in any case."

Both knew very well that it would have been easy for Hermione to reheat her tea with a simple flick of her wand, but it was a case of comfort. Neither wanted to be alone right now—Harry because he knew Hermione's presence would be enough to keep his mind off of vengeance for Neville's sake, and Hermione because she didn't want to dwell on the dangers her own parents faced, if the Longbottoms could be so easily eliminated while being kept safe in a magical institution.

Silently, both started towards Harry's room.

xxx

They arrived at Hogwarts later than Severus would have liked, but they arrived nonetheless. Little was said as they made the journey from the front gates up to the doors, Harry and Hermione trailing at the Potions Master's feet. The cold was blistering—worse here than in Flintshire, the town nearest to Severus' home. Harry and Hermione had been ordered to wear hats, scarves, and mittens, and both were glad now that they had complied. Hermione held her scarf over her nose, protecting it from the chill, and Harry kept reaching up to tug his hat down over his ears. Severus wore a simple grey wool scarf and a pair of mittens, and did not appear to be bothered by the wind and snow; he merely squinted against the flurries of white, and led on.

Professor McGonagall was waiting for them when they arrived at the doors. She stood inside the entrance hall, ushering them in with urgency, brushing the snow off of Harry and Hermione's shoulders and ignoring Severus, for she knew her attentions would be unwanted.

"Really, I can't see why you didn't simply use the floo," she muttered, performing a drying spell on both the children. She slanted Severus an agitated glance, and he narrowed his eyes.

"It would be unwise to use the floo at such a time, Minerva," Severus informed her coolly, as if it was utterly ridiculous to even suggest such a thing. "Such a move is expected by Voldemort, I assure you—and none of our party is particularly exempt from his attentions."

McGonagall looked like she wanted to agree, but the self-assured and condescending expression on Severus' face held her response at bay. She finished with the children before turning her full attention on him.

"The Headmaster wanted to see you the moment you arrived," she told him, receiving a reserved nod. "You'll need to be briefed on the new safety measures we'll be taking."

"Wait," Harry interjected, alerted to the fact that he wasn't supposed to be listening in when they both glared at him. He continued, however. "Why are we taking new safety measures all of a sudden? We've known all this time what Voldemort was planning to do—"

"Not here," Severus warned in a hiss, shaking his head once. "Both of you may visit me in my quarters tonight—don't bring the Weasley idiot if he arrives today, however, for my patience is running low today."

Neither objected; to have anything explained to them about the situation was a rarity in itself, and they couldn't risk losing the opportunity. Though disheartened by Severus' perpetually ill temper, Harry nodded silently and tried to look grateful.

McGonagall exchanged her last few words with Severus, and then escorted the kids into the Great Hall. Waiting at the end of the Hufflepuff table was a small arrangement of food, and several steaming cups of hot cocoa.

"Neville will be arriving sometime this afternoon," McGonagall informed them sombrely, walking with them to the end of the table. "You should be prepared to deal with the situation delicately."

Ah. This was McGonagall's subtle way of telling them to behave tactfully. Harry privately thought that it was a bit silly to think that either one of them should need to be reminded; if anyone could understand what Neville would be feeling, it was Harry, and if anyone deserved an award for eloquence, it was certainly Hermione.

Both nodded to McGonagall and sat down to what she told them was meant to be lunch. She abruptly left them to eat alone, and then went to join Severus in Dumbledore's office.

xxx

"Honestly, Albus, Aurors?"

McGonagall entered the room to find Severus glaring sceptically at the Headmaster, reclined in a deceptively casual position in the high backed chair across from Dumbledore's desk. She silently took her seat, feeling invisible to the two men who had an almost tangible wall of tension between them.

"We discussed this at the Order meeting, Severus—"

"Yes, but I had hoped you were only agreeing to temporarily appease Moody," said Severus. "I had no idea that you could actually be so daft as to seriously allow—"

"It is better that we take precautions now than after another disastrous event, you realise," Dumbledore interrupted calmly, clearly perturbed but actively unmoved by Severus' arguments. "If we do not concede at this point and something happens at the school, we will be labelled as uncaring, having not prevented such a catastrophe."

"Ah, so this is all just a farcical replication of safety, created for the sole purpose of preventing the pointing accusatory fingers of parents and ministry officials when something else occurs? You realise that a team of five Aurors will not hinder Voldemort if he should choose to attack the school."

"Additional defence can't cause us any more harm than we are already facing," Dumbledore responded. "And it will discourage misbehaviour from some of the more dangerous students in Hogwarts' population."

Severus frowned, then looked away. Dumbledore did have a strong point. Voldemort would be training his new pet… his protégé. More likely than not, he would choose a boy who would have easy access to Harry, due to close proximity. If anything were to hinder the actions of such a child, certainly aurors were one answer to the problem.

"I can see you are considering the point," Dumbledore said, drawing a groan of annoyance from Severus. The old man ignored it. "I'll expect you to cooperate, Severus, is that understood?"

Severus hated that, at times, the Headmaster still treated him like a child. He doubted whether the boy whom Albus seemed to picture sitting in front of his desk could have spent years ducking in and out of Voldemort's circle, loyalties wayward but undetectably so. Certainly he had proved himself more reasonable than a child- he had rationally come to terms with his and Harry's relationship, hadn't he?

A part of Severus realised that, though he was an adult in all these ways and more, the Headmaster did have viable reasons to expect him to raise complications. He was difficult—fundamentally so—and his arguments arose with such conviction that it was doubtful whether his actions would be concurrent with his agreement by way of conceding silence.

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Severus agreed to cooperate with the efforts of the aurors who would soon inhabit the school. On some level, he realised that this meant he would need to give over some of his authority to the likes of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks; on another level, he ignored the fact entirely.

"I understand," said Severus tersely, feeling almost as if he had lost something once the words left his mouth. "Now, I do believe we have more important topics at hand."

"We always do," McGonagall sighed, taking her place in the conversation now that the disagreement between the two men had been settled, at least on the surface.

"Harry needs to begin training," Severus said at once, taking in but not responding to McGonagall's comment.

"It's rather soon, Severus," McGonagall said, the lines etched in her face deepening along with her thoughts.

"It will always be rather soon, Minerva," Severus responded stiffly, refusing to look at her. He stared straight ahead, past the Headmaster, and concentrated on controlling the movement of the rapidly twitching muscle in his jaw. "He will always seem too young, too unprepared- but that's the point of it."

"He's got to grow up," Dumbledore said quietly, resting his hands on the desk in front of him and lowering his eyelids over his tired blue eyes.

"He is close," Severus admitted, rising from his seat and going to stand by the window. "There are aspects of his supposed maturity that are weak, but he is only a teenager, we must remember. Essentially, I believe he has what is necessary to begin this journey."

Severus turned around to face the two adults in the room with him, assuming the same posture he held when he lectured a room full of students. He paced slowly as he spoke, unaware of his movements and far more absorbed in the thoughts behind his words. "His decision making skills are perhaps the least advanced at this point- he has, for the most part, ceased making reckless decisions and acting on an impulse, but his thought processes frequently lack logic. I believe that the best course of action is to train him now according to this weakness- we must hand him every strategy he could possibly employ, and trust our instruction more than his judgement. If we can forestall Voldemort's action long enough, perhaps time will bring him the tools necessary to take our instruction to another level- until then, we can only hope that we are teaching him what he most needs to know."

"What, exactly, do you suggest we teach him?" McGonagall asked, placing her hands on the arms of her chair.

"He'll need to be versed on duelling tactics, naturally," Severus began. It was clear that he'd been thinking for a long time on what Harry would need to learn before he finally faced Voldemort. His face was drawn in with concentration, the rapidity of his thought apparent in the glint of his eyes. "I don't plan to give him practical lessons in the Dark Arts, but the theory is necessary if he is going to come up against it. He'll need to be instructed in the strength of White Magic—Albus' strongest suit. If at all possible, the boy needs to be shown some methods of stealth, and somehow, if it is within my range of capabilities, I should like to force into his thick skull the concept of cunning. That could perhaps be the greatest challenge we face."

"Oh, come now, he can't be that horrible—"

"I assure you, Minerva, he can," Severus interrupted, shaking his head at the thought. "He's not daft by any means, but he's certainly not skilled in the art of artifice or strategy."

"And how are we to teach him such a thing?"

"I'm working on it," Severus replied mildly, causing McGonagall and Dumbledore to exchange glances.

"How, precisely, are you working on it?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

The cautious note of the old man's voice caused Severus to thin his lips and quirk an eyebrow. "Beatings, regular ones," he answered facetiously.

"Severus, be serious," Dumbledore entreated, expression chastising.

"Oh, but I am," came the flat response.

"Severus," McGonagall said, more gently than the Headmaster had. "Please, no one is suggesting anything negative. We're just… curious."

"Ah, of course."

Severus did not retort further after that. He paced a moment more, and finally realising how many times he had crossed over the same stretch of floor, moved back to his chair. He sat down with a restless huff that was small enough to go unnoticed by the other two, and rested his head against the back of the chair.

"Just trust that I'm doing what I know is best for him," he said after a moment, for he could feel McGonagall's eyes resting on him and felt it best to give her assurances before being pestered on the topic. Dumbledore had long ago realised that when it came to Harry, it was sometimes best to let the issue lie with Severus; McGonagall had no such experience to go by.

McGonagall opened her mouth to respond to Severus, but her peripheral vision first detected Dumbledore's discreet shake of the head. She frowned, but acquiesced immediately with his unspoken appeal, and settled back into her chair.

"We should return to the Great Hall," she said tiredly. "The aurors will be arriving soon."

"We should," Severus agreed, voice equally deadened with weariness.

Despite the general consensus in the room that they should move on to fulfil their more pressing duties, each of the adults sat immobile in his or her chair. Though unvoiced, their thoughts were all based on corresponding branches of the same idea: the war had been going on for far too long. It felt as though they had gone through the same sorts of conversations cyclically; there was always some matter pressing, and there was always the understanding that the decisions they made could very well determine the fate of countless others. The weight of such a burden was pressing, and though they had become accustomed to feeling the strain that accompanies any series of pivotal decisions, the familiarity of such a feeling hardly made it any less severe.

It was an exhausting state of being.

xxx

"He hasn't spoken once since it happened."

These were the first words that greeted Harry and Hermione upon Neville's arrival. His grandmother stood in the entrance, looking after him as he walked wraith-like to the end of the table in the Great Hall. Hermione and Harry turned just slightly, following her gaze, and watched him sit down sullenly. He stared at the food in front of him, but did not touch any of it. In fact, it didn't even seem like he was looking at the food. He really was just… staring.

"—quite shaken, though I can't see the reason for all the emotion—his parents were hardly alive in the first place," continued Mrs. Longbottom, though Harry and Hermione were hardly listening, "but then, that is Neville for you. I had expected to keep him home for awhile, but Dumbledore insisted he return to the school."

"I'm sure it's for safety reasons," Hermione said faintly. Her response was quiet, and almost automated for the lack of emotion in her voice.

"Of course," Mrs. Longbottom agreed, straightening her cloak. It was shocking; one would think that she would be just as emotional as poor Neville, but she was as rigid, austere, and appraising as ever, looking the children up and down as though determining whether they were fit company for her grandson. "You'll see that he eats something, and tell the Headmaster I will speak with him later."

"We will," Hermione answered, though Harry thought it was hardly necessary. Mrs. Longbottom had phrased it more as a command than a request; he doubted she required an answer. She was used to people obeying her without question.

"Well, good day to you both." the older woman said in way of goodbye, nodding to Neville, who was watching her from far away. Slowly, she turned and, clutching her oversized red handbag, moved towards the doors with grace that was impressive for a woman of her age.

"I'm surprised she didn't wait to see Professor Dumbledore," Hermione commented in a low voice to Harry.

"I get the impression that she feels it unnecessary," Harry responded. "She doesn't seem very concerned with Neville—"

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed. "You know how voices carry through the empty hall."

"Hermione, I don't think he can hear me—"

"Still," said Hermione stiffly.

Harry knew when it was best not to argue, so he consented and ceased speaking at once. He and Hermione stood in silence for a moment, neither knowing quite what to do next. It was obvious that they would need to go and sit with Neville—they couldn't just ignore him. Harry, however, had gone through periods similar to this enough times to know that there was a great possibility that Neville just wanted to be left alone. Though her intentions were noble, Hermione's persistence could be more of an annoyance than a comfort.

"You should probably go tell the Headmaster that Neville is here," Harry told Hermione a moment later, hoping she wouldn't realise that his motive was to distract her from Neville's presence. "I'll go keep him company for a while."

Hermione cast a worried look over her shoulder, considering her grief stricken friend. "Yeah, alright," she agreed hesitantly. "Do you think he's still in his office?"

"I don't know where else he'd be," Harry said, shrugging.

"Okay," said Hermione. "I'll be quick."

Harry nodded and shooed her off with a wave of his hand. He felt a certain loss of security as she left; as much as he knew it was necessary that she go, her presence provided a certain sense of reassurance in moments such as these, when he wasn't exactly sure what the best course of action was.

Because Harry knew that the first thing he must do before anything else was to go to Neville, he turned towards the Great Hall's doors and walked with even steps towards his destination. Neville did not look up as he approached, making Harry feel rather uncomfortable—if Neville would not even look at him, it seemed logical to conclude that neither would he respond to anything Harry might say.

Watching Neville intently for a reaction, Harry slowly sank into the seat across from him. The other boy's wide eyes remained fixed on the worn table, unseeing.

"Neville," Harry said gently, causing the other boy to lift his eyes. Harry smiled an encouraging, sympathetic smile, and nodded his gratitude for Neville's attention.

"Don't ask how I'm doing," Neville said hoarsely, bitterness etched into the lines of his face.

Harry shook his head. "I wasn't going to," he assured the other boy, glad that he had at least spoken.

"She exaggerates, you know," Neville muttered. "I have spoken—just not much."

"Who, your Grandmother?"

Neville nodded numbly, round face displaying a myriad of melancholy emotions, sullenness the most prominent.

Harry left the topic of Neville's Grandmother alone; he was sure that her overbearing nature had been of little solace to him. In fact, it was probably best that he was here now instead of with her. The company of family was not always a cure for sorrow. If anything, it could sometimes be a catalyst.

It struck Harry a moment later that Hermione had been correct; Neville had been able to hear what had been said in the Entrance Hall. He considered that Neville's Grandmother had been speaking very audibly when she'd arrived, but he was suddenly thankful that Hermione had stopped him from speaking when she had.

"It's hard, isn't it," Harry said a moment later, reaching forward and grasping a bunch of grapes. He separated the bunch from the rest of the vine, and, remaining casual, began to eat them in sequence. As much as he would have felt relieved to show some emotion, he knew it was better to hold the conversation with relatively little. He wasn't sure he could clearly focus on what he was saying if he became blinded by his feelings. "—losing someone, that is."

"Of course," Neville responded. Though the bitterness had not left his voice, Harry was heartened by the note of interest in it. "Anyone who expects different is a fool."

"There are a lot of fools in this world," Harry commented, eating another grape. "Such a fact can make one feel quite alone."

"Yes," Neville agreed quietly, tempted by Harry's actions into taking a handful of grapes for himself. Both boys sat silently for a moment, working away at their small portions.

"But you know," Harry said a moment later, "no matter how alone you feel… you never truly are. That's the beauty of humanity, I guess. Everyone suffers… but I suppose it gives us all something in common."

Neville's circular eyes flickered up to Harry's face; he looked rather caught off guard. Harry shrugged, as if to say, _Well, it's true. _Neville slowly nodded his agreement and, with something changed in his expression, looked back down.

"It's just so unfair," Neville said at length. "He already robbed them of their sanity… why their lives, too?"

"You can't expect a logical explanation for why these things happen, Neville, they just do."

"But they weren't hurting anything!"

This outburst, accompanied by Neville's fists slamming into the table, caused Harry to jump slightly. He blinked several times, trying not to show any emotional upheaval at Neville's pain, though it _was _physically hurting him inside. Harry did not like to see people suffer: particularly his friends. However, he supposed that if he was to be of any help, he had to appear as though he was holding it together. One of them had to retain some sense of fortitude.

"I know," Harry said softly, reaching across the table and resting a hand on Neville's arm. Harry would have expected such a gesture to feel awkward and uncomfortable, but Neville's instantly consoled reaction made it seem like the right thing to do in such a situation. Harry tried not to develop a feeling of pride at this, but the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he didn't need Hermione for this as much as he had previously thought. "It's not rational, and it's certainly not justifiable, a death such as this—but all you can really do is just… focus that anger on defeating Voldemort, I suppose. That's what I did."

"Oh, they'll be avenged, that's sure enough," Neville seethed, eyes closed against the tears. It was an odd combination: his boyishly curved face which normally shone with effort and innocence had taken on an intense look of pain and righteous infuriation. Harry had rarely seen the boy worked into such a state.

Frowning, Harry opened his mouth to respond.

"Harry?"

Hermione's feminine voice floated over his shoulder, and he winced. Neville's hand twitched, and Harry realised he was still grasping the boy's wrist. Aware of the embarrassment working its way into Neville's expression, Harry jerked his hand away, and looked up at Hermione. The concerned look on her face told him that she had heard Neville's previous comment.

Her greeting had been a request—one to join the conversation, or simply to take a seat. She sensed the tension, and though she felt as though she was intruding on something, she also felt that her presence was necessary.

Harry nodded his assent, and she lowered herself into the spot on the bench beside him. She said nothing, but gazed sympathetically across the table at Neville, as Harry had done several minutes earlier. She looked to Harry with a troubled expression, and with his eyes, he nonverbally communicated to her that he understood her concern, and was doing what he could for their friend.

"Neville," Harry said carefully, turning back to his friend, "I can understand why you would want… revenge… but I'm… well, that wasn't what I meant when I said we should concentrate our efforts into defeating Voldemort."

"I know what you mean, Harry, and I'm not talking about Voldemort."

"What do you mean, then?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Didn't they tell you? It was them- the Lestranges, again- they took my parents. It wasn't enough to torture them to insanity! They had to see the task through!"

Hermione's wide-eyed expression told Harry that she hadn't been prepared to deal with this side of Neville. For once, she was the one who had no clue what to do. She turned to Harry with a pleading expression, that to him said, _reason with him!_

Harry was shocked that, for a moment, he considered telling Neville that his parents probably hadn't had a clue what had been going on, anyway… and then he realised that this was probably the exact sort of nonsense the boy's grandmother had been spewing for the past day. It was hardly a heartening notion.

"Vengeance isn't the answer, Neville, surely you can see that," Harry offered, knowing it was somewhat weak and unoriginal, but for the time being, unable to think of anything else that was more honest or to the point.

"And why not?" Neville asked, a sniffle escaping him. Despite all his anger, his underlying soft personality could not be erased. "Why shouldn't they pay for what they've done?"

"They should!" Harry exclaimed. "But not at the price of your virtue. Leave justice to those who have been trained for it."

"Virtue, Harry? Is that what you think is at stake here? Are you sure it's not because you don't think I'm strong enough to handle it? Think I'll choke, do you?"

"No, that's not it at all, Neville!" Hermione interjected, lifting her hand to reach for his, but thinking better of it at the last moment. "It's just…"

She looked to Harry to finish the statement, unsure how to do so, and he quickly picked up where she had left off. "There are better ways of dealing with your pain…" Harry said, hating that he sounded like an article to be published in _Witch Weekly. _

"Vengeance won't bring them back," Hermione interrupted, logic seeming to have returned to her.

Harry nodded, glad that she had been able to voice what he had been unable to find the words for.

"It's not that- it's the principle of it."

"The principle of it," Harry repeated. "The principle of it is that if you allow yourself to be so moved by their actions as to seek revenge- to destroy that part of yourself that you can never get back- then they've won something else. Vengeance turns otherwise good people into ruthless predators with little purpose other than to make a comeback. Is that what you want to do with your life?"

Moved far more by these words than anything that had been said thus far, Neville looked up and away again, staring hard at the ground off at his side.

"Neville—Neville—Harry's right, you know," Hermione said gently, this time allowing her boldness to get the best of her and reaching out to grasp Neville's hand, much like Harry had grasped his arm earlier. "We'd hate to lose you to their cause as well."

"I don't know…" Neville whispered quietly. What he did not know was unclear. "I just don't know about anything anymore."

"And that won't change for a while," Harry said. "It's never easy, Neville… but… you do what you can."

There seemed to be few words that could follow such a discussion. Neville chose not to respond, and Harry took this as a sign that his words were being taken in with at least a small measure of contemplation. He and Hermione deliberately avoided each other's gazes—it was an uncomfortable and yet settling silence which fell over the group, and neither were inclined to disturb it.

It was not long after that Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape emerged from the door directly behind the staff table at the front of the Hall. Both held their own characteristic looks of seriousness, McGonagall's face drawn into a tight, puckered expression, and Severus' pulled into a glare which Harry had since come to recognise as a look of deliberation.

"Longbottom," McGonagall said gently, coming behind him and resting a weathered hand on his shoulder. "You should come with me."

Hermione frowned and looked at Harry questioningly, who, in turn, shrugged and looked to Severus. The older man shook his head once, indicating that now was neither the time nor the place. His eyes drifted from his son's face to McGonagall and Neville's exiting forms, and, after a brief period, back to Harry.

"That was… well handled," Severus said in way of commendation, nodding to both Harry and Hermione.

"Thank you, sir," Hermione returned while Harry deliberated how to react.

Somehow, Harry was not shocked that Severus had listened in on the conversation. He had almost come to expect this sort of thing—even when the man had been simply his teacher, he had somehow managed to intrude on every conversation that held any importance. While part of Harry was glad that his father had witnessed it, Harry couldn't quite feel pride at having done what he felt necessary… he appreciated that he was being complimented on as much, but regretted having been placed in a situation where such a discussion was needed.

"This- all this disaster- it's just going to keep getting worse, isn't it?"

Again, Severus only responded with a silencing shake of the head. Discouraged by this reaction and further confounded when his father abruptly turned and headed for the doors, Harry wondered how Hermione could be so at ease as she placed a steadying arm on his shoulder. He slanted his eyes in her direction, and she tilted her head in the direction which Severus was walking towards.

Suddenly realising why Severus had been adamant that they refrain from conversation in so open an area, Harry gave a little nod to an Auror he'd seen only once in the Daily Prophet over the summer.

"That makes sense," he whispered to Hermione, who nodded her agreement.

"We should go," she whispered back, tugging slightly at his arm.

At once, both slid off the bench and, as they were unsure how it would appear if they disappeared out of the staff exit, headed towards the doors. Severus, seeing them coming his way, shifted out of the doorway, and continued to engage the Auror, who raised his eyebrows in Harry's direction as if he wanted to say something to him, in quiet conversation until they had passed.

"I'll have to remember to thank him for that later," Harry commented to Hermione as they reached the top of the stairs, infinitely grateful for Severus' subtle interference.

"Oh, yes," Hermione murmured, "I'd forgotten we were supposed to go visit him tonight."

"You had?" Harry asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Well, I was thinking about Neville, you realise," Hermione came back defensively, rolling his eyes when he smiled and shook his head.

"You know, on the subject of vengeance… do you think perhaps it would benefit Neville to speak to Professor Snape?" Hermione offered, sounding tentative on the subject.

"I doubt it would be well received, given Neville's immense fear of him," Harry disagreed, grimacing. "I don't doubt, however, that Severus would have something of value to say to him, I do agree with you on that point."

"You just called him Severus," Hermione pointed out, reaching the top of yet another flight of stairs and turning to face him.

Harry stopped with each foot on a different step, frowning and mentally retracing his last contribution to the conversation. "I did, didn't I?"

Hermione nodded slowly, searching his face with her eyes which almost perpetually shone with worry. "Did something happen between you two? I thought you were calling him 'dad' now."

Harry's mouth opened slightly, and he suddenly realised that she knew nothing of what had occurred during Christmas vacation. At the same time, the comfort with which she spoke of his and his father's relationship gave him an instant understanding that she was someone he could trust with the information. His brows relaxed in consent, and he nodded.

"I think I've alot to explain to you," he said quietly, joining her where she stood.

Hermione looked like she wanted to question him right then and there, but instead, she settled for momentarily resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and giving him a weak smile before dropping her arm and continuing to lead the way to the Gryffindor common room.

xxx

Hermione did not speak for quite some time after Harry explained to her the events that had transpired over his holiday. She looked like she was wavering between disapproval and relief that things were working themselves out again, if not with a few difficulties. Her arms folded between her knees and her chest, she stared at the ground, eyes squinting in a thoughtful fashion that made Harry quite nervous for her response.

"Are you going to say something?" Harry asked tentatively.

Expression unchanging, Hermione slowly shook her head, and Harry let out an exhalation of frustration, leaning his head against the back of the couch.

"It's really not as bad as it sounds—"

"Harry," Hermione said shortly, though she still didn't look at him, "stop talking. I need to figure out how I feel about this."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but when he saw her eyes shift irritably in his direction, he snapped it shut again.

Just when Harry was beginning to wonder if Hermione remembered how to speak at all, her brisk voice cut though the silence. It was clear from her rather pointed tone of voice that she had been planning what to say for quite some time.

"First of all, I can't believe you actually said those things to him—"

"No, I did."

"Well, I meant- Harry! I meant I'm appalled that you did, not that I actually doubt you would. Honestly, you've never been one to exercise stoic control over your temper."

"Neither is he."

"Obviously," Hermione retorted, shaking her head. "That's most likely where you get it from."

"Right," Harry grumbled, rolling his eyes. Honestly, he thought he was much more rational a person than his father, but he didn't say as much. "But do you think I made the right choice?"

"I'm not entirely sure there was a right choice to be made," Hermione admitted sceptically, lifting her eyebrows. "Really, you could have only made the choice you felt comfortable with. And you did, so… I suppose there's nothing to say about it. It's done with."

Harry nodded, about to respond when Hermione's voice resumed sharply.

"However, that doesn't mean that no one was at fault. And personally, I can't believe you would do something so stupid merely a week after all this happened!"

"It didn't seem so stupid at the time!" Harry objected. Part of him realised that this was hardly an adequate argument, but he felt it had to be made anyway.

Hermione shook her head, scowling at him with a fierce look of condemnation. "Harry," she said, lifting her eyebrows.

"Fine, fine, it was stupid," Harry conceded, slipping from his seat on the couch to the ground, and resting his back against the couch's arm.

"Thank you for at least admitting that," Hermione said, extending her legs to the other side of the couch so that she was lying down.

Harry looked up at her from where he sat on the ground, and thought that she didn't look so intimidating when she appeared to be relaxed.

"I am glad you told me, you know," Hermione offered after some time, a small proportion of harshness gone from her tone.

"Yeah, well, just don't spread it around."

"Of course not!" Hermione exclaimed scandalously, evoking a laugh from Harry.

"Anyways, I am still- I've still got to fix things," Harry said once his laughter had cleared, turning slightly to look at Hermione's face.

"Naturally," Hermione replied soberly. "But the Professor seems willing to let you, so that's something."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, tilting his head. "I told you, he's rather cross with me."

"Harry, what he said to you in the kitchen today—and the way he's treating you now. I should think it abundantly clear that he's willing to give you the chance to prove yourself. He's leaving it up to you."

"I think he's just biding time until my punishment," Harry grumbled, shaking his head.

Hermione laughed. "Could be. But the point is that you've got the chance- take advantage of that."

"Yeah," Harry breathed, because it was easier to agree than to disagree. He didn't mention that he had no idea how to do what he was agreeing to.

xxx

Exhilaration was a feeling that Harry had neither felt nor longed for in quite some time. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to suffer from that superficial fear and adrenaline rush that resulted from running around the castle after curfew, tucked safely under an invisibility cloak with the Marauder's map in hand.

Since Harry knew he would not be in trouble if Severus caught him, since, after all, Severus had been the one who asked him to see him that night, the main concern to be faced was the Aurors. In his earlier years, he had felt much more protected by the invisibility cloak. Now, however, he knew that there were Aurors patrolling the castle who would catch him and think it suspicious activity if they were not familiar with him as a person. That was the last thing he needed.

So, with stealth, Harry and Hermione crept down the maze of stairs all the way from the Gryffindor common room down to the dungeons. They were silent as they went, communicating only by pointing to important figures on the map headed their way.

Due to the many detours they were forced into taking in order to avoid the Aurors, it took them a great deal of time to finally reach Severus' rooms. Harry found himself regretting not having found Tonks or Lupin—surely one of them would have escorted them down to his rooms. He felt uncomfortable enquiringsuch a thing of anyone he did not know.

Harry was rather shocked when he reached out from underneath the invisibility cloak to knock and the door flew open before his knuckles could make contact with the wood. Before he could register what was happening, Severus was in front of him, angrily yanking the invisibility cloak off their heads and pulling Harry in by the front of his shirt, and indicating with a jerky movement of his hand for Hermione to follow.

"Idiots," he complained as he released Harry and shut the door behind them. "Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you would have been in had you been caught out after curfew by one of the Aurors?"

"But the term hasn't even started yet!" Harry argued, receiving an annoyed glance from Hermione, who was remaining quiet.

"If the rules still apply to the students who stay here for the Holidays, than certainly you can't think yourself exempt? Really, Harry, I thought you had been cured of that arrogance."

Harry visibly recoiled, and Hermione looked rather taken aback that Severus was speaking to him this way, only adding to Harry's embarrassment. The boy looked away and muttered a quiet apology, surprising both other parties in the room when he did not argue further.

While normally Severus would have realised how cold he had sounded and would have softened his expression to tell Harry that he hadn't really meant what he'd said, he decided that this was not the course of action to take now. Admittedly, his words had been born of true irritation, but once he heard them and instantly regretted speaking them, he remembered that he wished Harry to continue believing Severus was angry with him.

"You should have come earlier," Severus said gruffly, still glaring reproachfully at the pair.

"We thought you would be occupied," Hermione offered, since Harry looked hesitant about speaking again.

"The logical course of action, then," sneered Severus, "would have been to contact me on the matter, would it not have?"

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered immediately, earning a curt nod from the Potions Master.

"Harry?"

"Yes, sir," Harry muttered, irritated by his father, his eager to please friend, and the colour that was rising in his face due to mild mortification and temper.

"Very well, then," Severus said, his expression unchanging. "And, regrettably, I feel a duty to take fifty points from Gryffindor."

"Regrettably?" Harry repeated dubiously.

"Yes, you know how it pains me. Have a seat."

It was not the warmest welcome Harry could have hoped for, but the fact that the man was dropping the subject so soon was good enough for him. He nodded and went to sit on the couch, where Hermione joined him.

"You wanted to know why we are now taking new precautions, as opposed to earlier in the year," Severus began immediately, seating himself in his black leather armchair.

Hermione nodded vigorously, and Harry looked up interestedly.

"It is…a valid question," Severus admitted, his harsh demeanour beginning to melt. The swiftness of his change in bearing should have been an indication of the superficiality of his prior anger; however, Harry did not think of it.

"The problem at hand should be obvious," Severus continued, pondering his hands as he did so. "As I told you earlier today, Voldemort now has all he needs to brew the Asterisus. You can guess what issue this creates for us."

"He'll be choosing a prodigy," Hermione answered instantly, just as Harry had opened his mouth to say the same.

"Yes," Severus responded. "And we must be prepared for the fact that, most likely, he will choose someone in close proximity to Harry."

"He's not stupid enough to try something at Hogwarts, is he?" asked Harry.

"It's not a case of intelligence," replied Severus. "It's a case of winning, which will only happen when you are good and dead, Harry."

"Very subtle," Harry said in imitation of Severus, lifting an eyebrow.

"I told you—I won't attempt to make things sound more pleasant than they are. You don't need to be spared the truth. That's the worst possible thing anyone could do for you. Tell me you realise this."

Harry was quickly realising he liked Severus much better when the two of them were alone. He could take the ridicule far more lightly when there was no one there to witness it.

"Yes," Harry replied grudgingly, widening his eyes in annoyance and looking away from his father. Severus narrowed his eyes at Harry's tone, but said nothing about it. Still, the look on his face and lack of comment were enough of a message to Harry, who relaxed his expression a bit in order to please Severus, despite his continually rising agitation.

"Have you any ideas who it will be?" Hermione asked, apparently unaware of the nonverbal exchange going on between Severus and Harry.

Taking his eyes off his son, he nodded. "You should both be prepared for the fact that it very well may be Draco Malfoy."

"Why him?" Harry asked immediately, head turning sharply.

"He'll seem the best candidate to Voldemort," Severus answered. "Consider, he is very much like Riddle was in his school days—he is a prefect, well liked by his housemates, earns high marks in all of his classes. The Dark Lord will consider this a telling factor."

"But you've heard Malfoy; he doesn't want to work for Voldemort!"

"Once the Dark Lord singles one out for servitude, there's hardly any escaping it," Severus stated grimly, bitterness heavy in his inflection. "Especially when you consider who Mr. Malfoy's parents are. If he is asked and does not comply, he'll be safe from no one."

"He could come to Dumbledore."

"Ah, but he's also expressed his sentiments on that issue as well, hasn't he now?" Severus pointed out, lifting his eyebrows. "The Dark Lord will offer Mr. Malfoy power- he will consider it differently from how his father and others do. He will not realise that, in all likelihood, Voldemort's intention is to give someone strength enough to defeat you without putting himself at risk, and once that is done, he will discard whatever idiot allowed himself to be swept into his service."

"But, what are we supposed to do, then?"

"Be wary of his intentions, and speak to him as soon as possible about his contribution to the Potion. Someone will need to obtain Voldemort's flesh, and give us his blood… Little as I like to trust him, he is currently the only one in a position to do these things. I certainly cannot, as I had once planned to. Nor can I get myself killed in the process, because you need me to complete the potion as well."

"Is that the only thing stopping you, then?"

"Of course not, I'm no Gryffindor."

Harry scoffed at this, shaking his head. "So you say."

Severus grunted at that, and rose from his seat. "I believe that answers your questions, then," he said.

"Well—"

"Harry, classes resume the day after tomorrow. You should take tonight to readjust to the schedule of going to bed and waking up early. So, unless it's incredibly important…"

"Fine, fine," Harry conceded, also rising from his seat.

Hermione, who had been rather quiet for a while, thanked the Professor for answering their questions and headed to the door to wait for Harry, who still stood in front of Severus.

"I'll need my cloak back," Harry reminded him, pointing to the table behind him.

"No, I don't think you will," Severus responded, not bothering to explain that he was planning to write the boy a pass back to his Common Room and that to be caught in the halls carrying an invisibility cloak would draw unwanted attention.

"What?" Harry asked, eyebrows shooting up into the fringe of his hair.

"There," Severus said, ignoring Harry's outburst and handing him a slip of parchment explaining the reason for Harry and Hermione's presence in the hallways at this hour of night.

"But what about my cloak?"

"It will be returned, don't have kittens," Severus intoned almost mockingly, grabbing Harry by the shoulders and steering him towards the door. It amused him that Harry would take him so seriously, even when he wasn't, in truth, being serious at all.

"But I want it!"

"I told you would have it back, what more do you want?"

"Preferably? I'd like to have it back now."

"Pity," Severus said, opening the door and giving Harry a light push into the hallway. "On your way, then."

"Not until you give me my cloak."

"Harry, I believe you will be rather cross with me—and more than mildly embarrassed—if I am forced to levitate you through these hallways up to your common room."

"But—"

"Leave."

"No, but—"

The door slammed, leaving Harry and Hermione to stand in the dark hallway. With a frustrated groan, Harry illuminated the corridor with his wand, and turned to look at Hermione.

He was displeased to find that she was stifling her laughter, and snapped irritably, "And what do you find so funny about this?"

"Really, Harry, that was quite amusing," she admitted, allowing herself a light chuckle, but restraining the majority of her humour. "I'm sure he'll give it back to you in the morning."

"Yeah, well… he'd better."

And that was all Harry had to say on the matter.

xxx End Chapter 40 xxx

AN:

I do want to thank my betas, first of all, for having a look see over this chapter! Those would be **Rlmess**, **Lucie**, and **Allison Carroll**. I also must thank my muse (and you should all thank her too, she is a real person and yells at me when I don't write) **lilsnape.**

Join my yahoo group for news on updates, discussion, polls, and to give us your input on the new fic list we're starting!

Your thoughts mean a lot to me, so I would love any reviews you feel like leaving :)

I love you all platonically,

me


	41. Teacher, Teacher

Chapter 41

Teacher, Teacher

xxx

There were days when Severus Snape truly hated his job. Once in awhile, when he stopped lecturing and had no reason to stalk around the room, peering critically into students' cauldrons, he had to sit back and ask himself why he bothered teaching at all.

If only the answer hadn't been so simple. It was Albus Dumbledore.

As much as he could privately admire the man for his power and feel a sense of gratitude towards him for helping him along the path of redemption, the one truly lamentable thing he could say the man had done to him was to force him to teach children who, despite all his efforts and all the benefits of education, simply would not be taught.

Severus did not think it was asking too much of students to give them a chapter of reading and, because he had no practical lesson to go along with it and did not feel the need to waste his time lecturing on such a simple topic, tell them to use their time in class to get the chapter read and get prepared for the test they would have on the topic the coming day. Really, reading was not a difficult task. It should not have inspired the small, blonde, first year Hufflepuff student in the front row to burst into tears halfway through class. Nor should it have provoked the furtive glances that Jacob Hurst and Melanie Crovitch were sending him between each note that they exchanged.

Nor should it have led to the subtraction of approximately 34 points from Gryffindor's House Point total. That, however, was one by-product which Severus did not mourn.

Yes, there were days when Severus Snape truly hated his job.

It was not with delight, therefore, that Severus greeted his sixth year class when they filed in at the bell that afternoon. If there was any happiness in Severus about the fact that he would now be attending to the N.E.W.T. level students, it was only because he knew that they could handle his ire with far more resilience than the mere first years could, and he would not have to work so hard to control his temper. This, for some reason, seemed a comforting fact.

Severus' face, half cloaked by shadow, had a foreboding quality about it as he sat behind his desk, leaning back in his chair and watching the class file in. His posture was contemplative; his eyes narrowed to slits, only revealing the glittering black of his irises.

Watchful of their Professor, the students silently moved to their seats. Some looked fearful of his intentions, while some (mainly his Slytherins) looked rather anticipatory of what would potentially be an entertaining class for them to watch. Still others stared at him with defiance: forced expressions of bravery, as if they were about to fight a battle of some sort.

Though, for some, Severus mused, Potions class was a battle.

"Class," Severus intoned from his seat in way of acknowledgement, pleased when the subdued tone of his voice caused several heads to snap to attention. He smirked; it was indeed a great skill to command a class with so little effort.

"I believe you have essays to turn in," Severus reminded them a moment later, scanning the room for the guilty faces of forgetful students who had neglected their work. He was neither appreciative nor disappointed when there was a flurry of movement as the students moved quickly to gather their homework assignments. "Set them on my desk," he directed in the same smooth, level voice.

In a disorganised but not altogether chaotic fashion, the essays were placed on the Potion Master's desk; Seveurs sat and watched appraisingly as each student approached him, deposited his or her work, and then hurried away again.

"I trust these are as abysmal as ever," Severus said dispassionately to the class, standing up and sifting through the mass of parchments, straightening them deftly. "I suppose I could compliment you on your consistency, but so rarely do you appreciate the things I say." He shuffled the papers one last time and placed them in a neat pile at the other edge of his desk, and as he finished, commanded, "Pull out your books and turn to page four hundred and thirty-two."

Severus came around to the front of his desk, his stance almost casual as he leaned against it, creating a marked unease in the students before him. His gaze passed over the class, including his son, who was, much to Severus' satisfaction, carefully controlling his expression and turning to the page which Severus had dictated.

Taking his focus off of Harry, he addressed the class. "I believe you will all be pleased to know," he started, provoking an instantaneous response of confused whispers and perplexed expressions, before he growled, "Quiet… I believe you will all be pleased to know that I have decided to forego the objective test on the material I asked you to read over the holidays."

While the other students murmured to each other, Severus took advantage of their distraction to glance again at his son. He was gratified by the suspicious look on the boy's face; it meant that he was finally thinking about motives rather than simply actions.

"You will, however, have an essay portion," Severus announced after the excitement had quieted down. At the horrified looks on their faces, Severus smirked and continued, "and that will take place today."

"But sir!" Malfoy instantly objected, his protestation amplified in sharp contrast with the dead silence that had fallen due to all of the dumbstruck mouths which hung open instead of chattering. "We've not had any notice!"

"You were told a week before the holiday started that these three chapters were to be read by the time that you returned," Severus replied coolly, mockingly amused expression giving way to the sternness which most often characterized his features. "I do believe that's all the notice you should require, as sixth year N.E.W.T. students. If you haven't learned by now to complete your assignments by the date specified, then I must ask you to re-evaluate your decision to pursue the higher level courses. I would be more than willing to transfer any one of you to Muggle Studies, if you feel that I am demanding too much of you. I'm sure there will be some room for you there. Interested, Mr. Malfoy?"

Malfoy's mouth opened to respond, but he, chastened and slightly embarrassed by the fact, seemed to choke on his words. Grudgingly, he surrendered whatever battle he'd thought he'd been about to fight with the Potions Master, and sat back in his chair, muttering a resentful, "No, sir."

A curt nod signified Severus' satisfaction, and he said nothing further to Malfoy. "You'll have ten minutes to review whatever you believe to be pertinent in the reading."

Severus circled his desk and settled once again into his chair. "You're already on the clock, by the way," he smoothly stated a moment later. "I suggest you stop gawking at me and take advantage of this opportunity."

Noting that Harry was among the few who were already skimming the pages and doing so with an expression that was, though mildly distressed, hinting at the boy's confidence in his abilities to do well, Severus was glad to realise that though he had given the boy any reminders, he'd completed the task assigned. He suspected the bushy haired girl sitting next to him had something to do with this, but he was nevertheless appeased.

No guilt arose within Severus as he passed the tests out ten minutes later. He met students' pleading eyes with a vindictive smile, viewing their displeasure as a sign that justice had been served to the miscreants who had so arrogantly ignored his instructions.

"You have the remainder of the period," Severus announced as he extended the last test to his son, giving the boy a meaningful look and receiving a befuddled one in return. It seemed he understood that the man was expressing approval, but at what he could not comprehend. Because he did not want to appear to be focusing any extra attention on Harry, he spent no more time standing in front of the boy and returned to his desk.

"Begin."

xxx

"I have to say, I'm a bit surprised at how many people didn't complete the reading," Hermione told Harry as they made their way up from the dungeons, destined for the Great Hall, where Ron had promised to meet them.

"I never would have done it if you hadn't told me to," Harry admitted in response, shrugging. "Honestly, it was a bit much to assign three chapters to be read over break, and especially to expect us to remember enough of it in order to complete an essay test to his level of satisfaction."

"But he did have a fair point, did he not, that we _chose _to take such a difficult class?"

"I'm not trying to complain," Harry responded with a touch of defensiveness. "And given his mood when we walked in, I wasn't expecting an easy period."

"He didn't seem especially tetchy," Hermione commented thoughtfully. "I mean, not more than usual… at least, he wasn't as insulting as we all know he can be."

"I don't know; like I said, I just had an idea as soon as we came through the door. It was the way he watched us, I think."

Hermione shrugged at this and waved to Ron as they approached the doors. He smiled when he saw them and quickened his pace to reach the entrance.

"How was Potions?" Ron questioned unnecessarily as he met them, both of whom wore harrowed expressions due to the mental exercise they'd received only a few moments before.

"It was Potions, Ron," Harry reminded him dryly.

"Had a rough time of it, then?"

"An impromptu test."

"An impromptu _essay _test," Hermione added.

"Oye," Ron breathed, eyes wide.

Harry laughed and nodded. "Nothing like Potions class to abruptly remind you that school is back in session."

"Oh, it wasn't all that bad," Hermione argued good-naturedly, shaking her head at the two of them.

"Just like the O.W.L.s, right Hermione?" Ron quipped, receiving a playful slap on the arm.

"Not quite like that, no," she responded.

"Do you think we have time to stop off at the Common Room before we go to our next class?" Harry asked indecisively, seemingly weighing the options in his head.

"She doesn't really care if we're late anyway."

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "What sort of an attitude is that?"

"The sort that _normal _students without such anal-retentive tendencies have," he muttered, looking at Harry and rolling his eyes.

Hermione let out a frustrated groan and readjusted her bag on her shoulder. "Fine," she snapped. "You two go and get whatever you need, and I'll meet you in class."

"Hermione—" Harry started in pacifying tones, only to be interrupted.

"No, Harry, it's fine," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Really, I'll catch up with you later."

Before anyone could convince her to do otherwise, she took a quick left and headed in the opposite direction of the common room.

"Unpredictable, that one," Ron commented in a breath, shaking his head and continuing with Harry down the hallway. "Downright strange."

"Yeah, she's been a bit moody the past several days, actually," Harry agreed. Ron gave him an odd look, and Harry shrugged. "What?"

"Why, have you really spent the past couple _days _with her?"

"Well… I mean… no one was here yesterday, and you hadn't arrived yet… and the day before she arrived at my house early in the morning so it was a bit unavoidable—"

"I'm not asking you to make excuses. It's just a bit out of the ordinary. Normally, she would spend her time at the library, and you…"

"Yes?"

"Well, normally you spend quite a bit of time with Sn—your—erm—that father figure of yours."

Harry gave Ron a humorous look. "You could just call him the Professor, Ron."

"There's the word I was looking for!" Ron exclaimed, laughing at his own lack of verbosity.

"Well done, Ron," Harry quipped, clapping his hands together in mock applause.

"Yeah, yeah. But anyway… is something going on?"

"Did you forget the other night?"

"Oh."

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"Is he still angry at you?"

"Well…no. I mean, he wasn't really _angry _to begin with… just… annoyed? I guess that's it: annoyed."

"Ah," Ron responded, nodding. "My mum gets like that, too. Don't worry, it'll pass. Maybe it will do you some good to go to Hogsmeade next weekend?"

For some reason, Harry was suddenly grateful that it was Ron at his side. The fact that he was comparing Harry's own mildly dysfunctional relationship with his father with the relatively normal relationship between Mrs. Weasley and him had a stabilizing effect, for some reason unknown.

"Actually, I don't think I'm going to go next weekend," said Harry. "I didn't spend all of yesterday avoiding him because I'm scared of what he'll say to me or anything… but he told me I should figure out a way to make it right, and that's what I'm going to do."

"Make it right?"

"Yeah. Ambiguous, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Ron admitted.

"I'm not sure I do either."

xxx

Severus had been glaring silently at Blaise Zabini for a full three minutes now, and still could not formulate the words to sum up his utter fury with the boy. Perhaps his anger would have abated somewhat if it were not for the boy's cheeky, nonchalant attitude; more annoying than Zabini's blatant disregard for the importance of this subject was his bold display of defiance towards Severus. It was bothersome to realise that all his years of openly showing his Slytherins favour, he had helped them to cultivate attitudes of complete indifference and superciliousness and abominable senses of work ethic.

Severus was not a man who ignored the art of logic. No, he had reasons for why he had—and continued to—indulge his Slytherins. Firstly was the fact that he had long been expected to treat the children of his former 'comrades' with far less harshness than he treated many of his other students with. Secondly, Severus had always thought that if there was one house that was looked down upon by a majority of the teachers, it was his own. Both from his personal experiences at Hogwarts and from the conversations he had been privy to in the staff room, he knew that Slytherins were generally viewed as untrustworthy, prideful, and disinclined to earn what they could easily cheat their way to getting. While true for some, it was perturbing to realize that this stereotype was instantly expected of any member of the house.

The problem now was that while Severus did not wish to adopt crueller policies on how to handle his Slytherin students, he knew that once the war was over, assuming he survived, he would need to find some middle ground between indulgence and severity.

"Mr. Zabini." Severus' voice was a deep rumble, the darkness of it congruent with the foreboding expression on his face. The boy's dark head snapped to attention; his obstinate expression of suppressed temerity remained, but he kept reverently silent, waiting for Severus to speak. "Explain _this _to me," he demanded curtly, holding up Zabini's blank test and giving each end a sharp tug, eliciting an audible _snap. _

To Severus' displeasure, Zabini shrugged noncommittally and drawled, "I didn't have time to complete the readings over the holiday, and you gave us only ten minutes to prepare. Why waste my time attempting a test I had no chance of scoring well on?"

"_Waste your time?_" Severus slowly repeated, lifting his eyebrows in disbelief that he'd just been witness to such an audacious utterance. He paused, leaning back in his chair in a way that would have seemed calm and contemplative, if not for the glint in his eye that a clairvoyant student would have recognized as a dangerous warning sign. "Is that what you think of my class?"

"Not the class, sir, the _assignment_," Zabini explained as if this amendment made his previous statement more acceptable.

"Ah," said Severus, this concise sound signalling the beginning of what would be the proverbial calm before the storm. He lifted his eyebrows and set the parchment on his desk, smoothing it down, before asking icily, "Do you consider me a frivolous person, Zabini?"

Narrowing his eyes, Zabini carefully responded, "No."

"Why, then, do you assume I would give frivolous assignments?"

Apparently seeing where this was going, Zabini quickly began to back-peddle. "I didn't say the assignment was _frivolous, _so to speak—"

"You called it a waste of your time, did you not?" Severus quickly snapped at him, voice raised significantly and shocking Zabini a bit.

"Well, what I meant was—"

"What you meant was that you consider yourself above the assignment that I gave! Are you an authority on Potions, Mr. Zabini?"

"I'm adept in the subject."

Severus glared, and rose quickly from his seat, waving Zabini's blank test around in front of his face. "Then why, pray tell, did you leave the test blank?"

"Fine, I'm not an authority on Potions, happy?"

"Don't get cheeky with me, Zabini," Severus growled, stepping around his desk and coming dangerously close to his student. "So, if you are not an authority on Potions, then how can you deem any assignment a waste of your time? How can you decipher between the essential and the inessential if you barely have a base knowledge of the subject? How can you make those judgment calls if you make such foolish mistakes as to blatantly disregard my instructions, knowing full well what my response would be when I learned of it?"

"I suppose I can't—"

"You _suppose_?" hissed the Potions Master.

Zabini's mouth snapped shut, and he glared at the man in front of him. He had no response to this, as Severus had expected.

"Say it, Zabini," Severus commanded, straightening and staring hard down his nose at the boy.

"My apologies, Professor," Zabini said through clenched teeth.

"You'll stay here until I'm satisfied with your response," Severus told him stonily, shaking his head. "There are times when any person must sacrifice his foolish pride; you will do well to learn that."

"I was taught that pride is one of the most important components of one's persona," Zabini said stiffly, lifting his chin.

"What a foolish teacher you had," Severus returned scathingly, returning to his seat. He sat down with an angry flourish of his robes, and levelled Zabini with a fixed stare of intimidation. "And here I thought you were a Slytherin."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Slytherins are supposed to be blessed with the gift of cunning; clearly, you have not learned such a skill yet. You must learn to recognize when you have lost your battle. You must learn when to submit to authority. These are the necessary skills of survival—ones you do not possess."

Zabini looked disconcerted by Severus' critical ascertainment, but finally seemed to recognize the value of remaining silent. His eyes narrowed stubbornly, but he said no more.

"At least something is finally working its way through your thick skull."

Zabini met his eyes then, his own narrowing even further. Severus could tell that he desired to challenge the man's authority in the spirit of pride, but that what little sense of strategy he possessed kept him from doing so.

"Much as I appreciate your lack of verbiage," said Severus as his previous indignation began to give way to satisfaction at Zabini's surrender of control, "I am still waiting for your response."

Zabini's form tensed, and his controlled fury was entirely evident in his expression. He lacked subtlety, Severus thought. However, his response demonstrated a certain amount of intelligence. "It won't happen again… sir."

Severus' lips curled into a victorious smirk, and he nodded almost as if to praise his student. "Very well," he said, gazing at Zabini with a knowing look. "Now, get out of my sight before you bring further trouble upon yourself."

Zabini looked annoyed by this rather snide dismissal, but rose from his seat and quickly excused himself nevertheless. Severus watched him exit through the door, and then exhaled in frustration, settling back into his chair again. His triumphant and amused expression faded into one of pensive thought, and he shook his head, unconscious of the action.

Children really were stupid, and the thought grew more and more depressing as he realised there were few exceptions to the rule.

xxx

Minerva McGonagall had a nasty habit of showing up whenever Severus least wanted to see her, and disappearing whenever he found himself desiring a word with her. This was the thought that ran through his mind as he stood at the door of her empty office, eyes narrowed in annoyance. Because he had run into two second years whom he knew to be the worst team of trouble-makers in their year, he (out of a desire only to ruin the students' fun, and out of no obligatory courtesy towards his colleague—or so he told himself) closed the office door that she had, much to his exasperation, carelessly left open.

Aside from the Gryffindor Common Room, which Severus had absolutely no desire to visit, there were few places that seemed as likely for McGonagall to have travelled to as Dumbledore's office. He had been told earlier in the day that Lupin would be arriving to begin his Auror duty and suspected that McGonagall had gone up to greet him.

Deciding that he had enough time to do so, Severus sighed resignedly and headed in the direction of Dumbledore's office. He didn't especially relish the idea of seeing Lupin again, no matter how tolerable the man had been during their last encounter, but he supposed it was necessary, since his schedule for the rest of the day would be too busy to track down the tartan-robed Witch.

With his long strides and quick pace, Severus reached Dumbledore's office in record time. He found himself hoping against hope that McGonagall would be here; it was a wish that he seldom had. Still, knowing what inane conversation he would be subjected to once in the presence of the Headmaster, he hoped that he would not have to endure it for nothing.

Dumbledore's door was open when Severus arrived, and he began to wonder why this seemed to be such a trend among the Professors today. He stood in the doorway and tapped on the smooth wood, announcing his presence to those within. Dumbledore leaned slightly to look past Lupin, who stood directly in front of him, and waved him in with a smile.

Severus was displeased when he did not spot McGonagall within, but he stepped further into the office nevertheless.

"Severus, what can I do for you?"

Deadpanned, Severus replied, "I've come to hand in my resignation."

"Was your last class really all that bad?" asked Albus with a chuckle, agitating Severus with his highly entertained expression.

"They've been awful all day, Albus, I can't understand why."

"It's rather simple," Dumbledore replied. "You know as well as I that they're just excited after their holiday—they always are."

"Yes, unfortunately," Severus agreed, nodding and coming to stand next to Lupin, whom he did not acknowledge except with a glance. "Though one would think that they'd be depressed by the thought of returning to school."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Lupin said genially, earning a glare from Severus for entering the conversation. "I was always happy to return to school after the holidays as well: to exchange stories, start fresh."

"Of course you were, Lupin, you had friends," said Severus snidely. His tone, however, was closer to that of disconsolation than pure spite. He realised his slip quickly, however, and neutralized his expression, adding, "Obnoxious ones, at that. But I did not come here to discuss your former cohorts. Albus, have you seen Minerva?"

"She's just left," Dumbledore told him, tastefully ignoring what Severus had said and hiding any sympathy he likely felt. "She should be returning any moment, however. She's fetching a collection of files from Filch. Would you care to wait for her, or shall I pass along a message for you?"

"I suppose I will wait," said Severus, thinking it would be better to endure this than to go searching through various corridors for McGonagall.

"If it suits you," Dumbledore said, grinning in a way that made Severus hope that McGonagall would return very soon. "Won't you take a seat?"

"I'll stand."

"Oh, don't be so dour," chided Dumbledore, conjuring a chair and gesturing for Severus to seat himself.

Exhaling agitatedly, Severus complied. "Why thank you, Headmaster, you're so accommodating," he muttered flatly, causing Lupin to snort and the Headmaster to give him an indulgent smile. Severus rolled his eyes.

Severus refused to be drawn into conversation with Lupin and Dumbledore while he waited for McGonagall to return. When she finally did, he instantly rose, causing her to stop in her tracks.

"Severus," she said warily, waving the box of files she'd been levitating to sit on Dumbledore's desk. "May I assume you were waiting for me?"

"Yes," Severus replied stiffly, stepping further away from his seat and towards her. "I merely wanted to ask you a favour."

"I'd like to say you may ask me anything, but considering whom I am speaking to, I suppose that would be unwise," said McGonagall dryly, moving her spectacles down her nose so that she could look over them at her peer.

Severus gave her a look which said clearly that he did not find her comments amusing in the slightest.

"Fine, fine, ask your favour," McGonagall said when she saw that Severus was not going to elaborate until she had asked him to.

"Your graciousness is astounding," Severus remarked. He then lowered his voice so that neither Dumbledore nor Lupin could hear what was being said, and continued, "I was wondering if you would help me to punish a student, ironically."

"You're asking for my assistance in such a task?" McGonagall asked in astonishment lifting her eyebrows. "I was under the impression that you had mastered that particular aspect of teaching."

"It's Zabini."

"Ah."

"Loquacious today, aren't we?"

"It would serve you well to remember that you are asking a favour of me, Severus," McGonagall reminded him. "You should really be more polite."

"I was counting on your Gryffindor nobility," Severus informed her. "Polite or not, I need your help, and you and yours have an inherent hero complex."

"What a ghastly assumption to make," said McGonagall, though her lips were slowly beginning to curve upward.

Severus' expression was unapologetic. "Will you fulfil my request, then?"

"You've yet to make your request clear."

"Find a reason to give him detention within the next week, and perhaps take points," Severus suggested, folding his arms. "I would relish in doing so myself, but my position limits me from such action."

"Your position as Head of House?" asked McGonagall. "I suppose I am confused as to why, now that you are no longer spying, you cannot do this yourself."

"I must still favour my House, Professor, and I am surprised you do not understand the necessity."

"Clarify, then, Severus," she commanded.

"Very well," Severus agreed. Noticing the sudden quietness of Dumbledore and Lupin, he steered her further towards the door. "The children in my house at this time are facing very difficult decisions; they are receiving pressure from their parents and from their peers to join the Dark Lord's cause. There are some who, I believe, will come to me in time, seeking help… but only if they continue to believe that they may place their trust in me. They will never do so if they feel that whatever favour I have bestowed on them these past seven years has been pretence."

"And so you cannot even punish them?" McGonagall clarified, clearly appalled at the prospect. "How can you possibly control them, in such a case?"

"I cannot punish them for what they will surely see as a triviality," Severus informed her. "Trust me to understand the mind of a Slytherin, above all else. Zabini is looked up to with respect in his house, and he knows what power he holds because of that. From a strategic point of view, punishing him would be foolish on my part."

"And how will he learn by my punishing him?"

"I care little what lesson he takes away from it, Minerva," Severus admitted, annoyed at having to explain himself. "I merely wish to see him penalized for his misdeeds, however roundabout the method."

"This is completely unethical, Severus."

"Oh, who really gives a damn about ethics?" challenged Severus, crossing his arms and leaning against the frame of the door. "Even your beloved Headmaster uses manipulation to gain his ends."

McGonagall's eyes lit up with indignation, and she exclaimed in a hushed voice, "How dare you say such a thing?"

"It's not a matter of daring, Minerva. If it were, it is doubtful I would say it with the Headmaster merely twenty metres away, for as well known as my candour is, I am hardly a recklessly audacious soul. Dumbledore knows well my opinions of the actions he has taken, and he accepts them; therefore, you may do the same. Now, will you do me this morally questionable and possibly reprehensible favour, or will I have to consult a more cooperative member of the staff?"

After taking a long pause to consider it, McGonagall grudgingly replied, "I will."

"Please, Minerva, your zeal is overwhelming me," Severus said sardonically. "Purely your agreement is satisfactory—enthusiasm is unnecessary."

McGonagall's lips thinned, and Severus allowed himself a satisfactory smirk at her expense. When she finally relaxed her expression and shook her head in an oddly agreeable way, Severus gave her an appreciative nod and began to move from the room. He had not gone far, however, when Dumbledore's voice followed and beckoned him.

"Ah, Severus?"

Stopping just before the staircase, Severus' eyes lifted towards the ceiling, and he slowly turned around and long-sufferingly dragged himself back into Dumbledore's office.

"Yes?" he asked despairingly.

"If you are free to do so," Dumbledore began; he did not pause to wait for Severus' answer, "would you mind terribly fetching Harry for me?"

"Did you hire me only to send me on these insipid errands, Albus?"

Dumbledore folded his hands in front of him, and pondering his hands, inquired, "Will you believe any different if I object?"

"Doubtful."

"Then there is little point in doing so," Dumbledore concluded, unclasping his hands. "Yes, Severus, I hired you with the sole intent of sending you on meaningless quests that could easily be completed by any fifth year. Your excess qualifications matter very little to me. Now, go, and fulfil your purpose."

Because any attempts at argument would certainly have proved futile, Severus settled for a harsh glare and something akin to a growl before he left the room for the second time. It was not that he did not wish to see his son; the point of it was more that he was being sent to do so, undoubtedly so that Lupin could converse with the boy. He and Lupin were, for Harry's sake of course, on more agreeable terms, but if that man wanted to continue some sort of friendship with Harry, Severus saw no reason why he should need to foster it.

As predictable as Harry normally was, one thing Severus had not yet learned to predict was Harry's location in the castle. On the average day, the boy moved around at random, normally following his friends wherever they chose to go. If he knew anything about any of their inclinations, however, he could confidently guess that Miss Hermione Granger was in the library.

It was not surprising to find the girl tucked back in one of the farthest corners of the quiet room with her thick curls haphazardly wound up around a spare quill and books spread out across the table. A quick glance told Severus she was making use of the texts in order to complete her Ancient Runes assignment, as the professor having given a rather lengthy assignment that morning.

"Miss Granger," Severus intoned, lifting an eyebrow when Hermione gave a noticeable start and placed a hand over her chest.

"You frightened me," she gasped accusingly, lifting her other hand to her forehead.

"I noticed," Severus stated dryly.

"Yes, well," said Hermione, closing the book nearest to her and stacking it atop a nearby pile of apparently unused books. "Might I ask why you're here?"

"You may," replied Severus. "I will even answer, since I am feeling generous today."

"I didn't gain that impression from Potions this morning," Hermione retorted, a smile playing around her lips.

"Hold your tongue," Severus warned her, though he wasn't truly offended by her comment.

"Of course, sir," Hermione agreed, muting her expression.

Severus gave her an approving nod and, unwilling to waste more time, asked, "Have you spoken with Harry in the past hour?"

"I saw him in the Great Hall earlier, but I think he mentioned something about heading up to the common room for the period," Hermione told him promptly, dutifully refraining from asking why.

Severus' eyes narrowed at this, a clear sign of his annoyance. He shook his head to himself and weighed his options. He could return to Dumbledore and simply tell the man that he did not know where Harry was, but he doubted this would turn out well. Short of causing a sudden flutter of panic in all three adults currently gathered on the second landing, the older man would soon find out Severus had lied, and Severus wasn't fond of lectures, no matter how many of them he gave throughout the day. His other option was to go to Gryffindor tower, which seemed equally unappealing.

"Sir?"

Ah, there was his answer. It was sitting right in front of him, literally.

"Miss Granger, would you be so good as to relay a message to Harry?"

"Of course," Hermione responded, though she sounded confused.

"The Headmaster needs to see him in his office—and you should tell him he's not being summoned for disciplinary purposes, since the thought will undoubtedly cross his mind."

"Yes, I'll go tell him right away," Hermione said hurriedly, gathering up her books and supplies.

"Helpful, just as your Head of House," Severus quipped, though he realised a moment later that only he understood why this was amusing as Hermione stared at him blankly.

"What?"

Severus shook his head and said, "It is of little consequence. Go quickly, before classes resume."

"Yes, sir," Hermione replied, lifting her bag over her shoulder and moving out from behind the table. "I'll go now."

Severus nodded to her and watched her disappear quickly from the library. Confident that she would complete the task she'd been assigned, he followed soon after, intent on finishing the rest of the period in the isolated solace of his office.

xxx

Harry wasn't sure how mature it was to hang upside down off of a couch with his best friend, having a conversation about what it would be like if furniture were kept on the ceiling instead of the floor, but in this moment, he hardly cared. Several feet away were two stacks of books—one Harry's, and one Ron's—and both had been placed there with the intent that they would assist in the completion of their homework assignments. The boys were content to busy themselves with anything that wasn't homework.

Little did Harry know that this was the scene that would meet Hermione as she entered the relatively quiet common room: that of two rather large feet propped up on the back of the couch, with no bodies in sight.

"What are you two doing?" came Hermione's weary question, causing Ron and Harry to exchange glances. Her expression and stance were easy to imagine; her hand was most likely rested on her forehead which was wrinkled in frustration, the other stationed at her hip. Harry sighed and righted himself, turning around and offering Hermione a weak smile.

"We're studying the effects of gravity on one's ability to do magic," Ron replied after having thought for a moment, remaining in his upside-down position.

"Don't lie to me," Hermione responded, coming around the couch and staring down at the two boys. "Your wands are both sitting over there, and whether right-side-up or upside-down, the force of gravity on your bodies is the same, it's just distributed differently."

"I didn't say the circumstances for experimentation were ideal, but at least it's an effort—"

"Ron!"

"Fine!"

Like Harry had, Ron swung his feet off the back of the couch and, with a grunt of discomfort, found his way back to a seated stance.

"Happy?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded contentedly, and with a wave of her hand, said, "Budge up."

Harry instantly moved to the side of the couch she indicated, and she lowered herself down to sit between the two boys, resting her head against the back of the couch and sighing.

"So, what lured you from the library?" Harry questioned good-naturedly.

"I wouldn't call it a lure, exactly," Hermione answered. "Actually, I just came here to deliver a message, but now that I'm sitting down, I think I'd rather like to stay."

Harry waited a moment, and when Hermione did not elaborate, asked, "What was the message?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed with an accompanying laugh at her mistake. "Sorry, I thought I'd said! Professor Dumbledore wants to see you in his office—I'm not sure why, but I was told you're in no trouble."

"Wait, who told you this?" asked Harry, rising from the couch.

"Professor Snape," Hermione told him. "He found me in the Library and asked me to come tell you."

"Curious he didn't do it himself," Ron commented, apparently oblivious to the faltering expression on Harry's face.

"Yes, it is a little odd," Hermione admitted, shrugging. Glancing at Harry, she added, "I'm sure he's just got a lot to do."

"Yeah, all those tests to grade," Harry agreed unconvincingly, frowning slightly as he gave his friends a little wave and promised to see them later.

While there was most likely some viability to Hermione's reasoning, the fact that Severus had felt it necessary to send information with a messenger made Harry wonder at just how angry the man still was with him. Was he so upset that he couldn't stand even to speak to Harry? Really, he hadn't behaved terribly to the boy, but it was possible that this owed to the fact that he was still attempting to make up for the altercation that had occurred several weeks ago.

Harry made his way down the corridor, turning these thoughts over in his mind with such concern that he barely noticed his surroundings. He allowed his feet to carry him where he needed to go while his mind wandered to other places.

A part of Harry's mind rebelled against the feelings of hurt in favour of a more volatile emotion. Anger was certainly present; how was Harry supposed to 'make it right' if Severus was avoiding him? His father's behaviour almost seemed equivalent to the tactics of a girl who wanted something from a boy—almost as if he was playing hard to get, only with a far different goal in mind.

Still, Harry reminded himself, he had been the one to do wrong in the first place. Severus' anger, if not poorly handled, was understandable. This fact, however, did not nullify Harry's feelings on the matter. Given this fact, he had a feeling that today would not be the day that he went down to fix things with his father. Truthfully, he didn't know when it would be.

Harry found the staircase to Dumbledore's office already open, and tread his way easily up the stairs to the office. He could hear voices floating through the open door, and stopped at the entrance to give a small knock on the oak, obliged to alert them to his presence in case he was intruding on anything.

"Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed jovially, rising from his desk and motioning for Harry to enter the room. "I see Severus managed to locate you."

"Actually, Hermione did," Harry said, knowing he had failed to keep a touch of bitterness out of his tone when Dumbledore's bright expression allayed slightly. "So… why did you want me?"

"I thought you might like to see an old friend," Dumbledore explained. "Though it won't have been that long since you last met, I assumed you'd appreciate it nonetheless."

Harry frowned and, stepping forward, spotted Lupin sitting in a chair that had been previously obstructed from his view. "Professor!"

Lupin rolled his eyes at the title, but smiled and rose to greet Harry anyways. "How are you, Harry?"

"Great," Harry replied automatically. It was one of those questions one always found his or herself responding to without thought, whether the answer was true or not. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to wish your father a happy birthday, naturally," joked Lupin.

"I didn't know it was coming up," Harry admitted.

"No?" asked Lupin, tilting his head. "No, Severus wouldn't be one to mention it—January 9th, if you wanted to know."

Harry's eyebrows lifted; this didn't give him much time—though, admittedly, it wasn't his main priority at the moment, especially considering his current feelings towards his father.

"But I'm only joking," Lupin continued. "I'm here to assist with the Auror duty," he explained, causing Harry's forehead to wrinkle in puzzlement.

"But… you're not an Auror."

"I'm not, no," Lupin admitted with a consenting nod.

"I've cleared it with the Ministry," said Dumbledore. "Lupin has done enough for the Order that I was able to justify his staying here. We have attempted to place as many Order members in the castle as possible, to avoid complications or conflicts of interest."

Harry nodded; that made sense to him. Given the changes the castle had undergone with the invasion of Dolores Umbridge the previous year, Harry could easily understand why Dumbledore would want to keep as much of the Ministry out of Hogwarts as possible.

"So you'll be here a while, then?" Harry asked, redirecting his attention to Lupin.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure how often you'll be seeing me, but yes," responded Lupin. "We have been ordered to disrupt the daily student life as little as possible; really, we're not even supposed to be seen."

"I would think they'd want you out in the open, to discourage any misbehaviour," Harry commented.

"On the contrary, Harry," Dumbledore said. "The trouble we are attempting to prevent will certainly be executed by someone who knows how to avoid being caught—as long as that someone knows when it is most likely that such a thing will happen. I will make the school aware of the presence of aurors, but they will not be seen. An element of mystery makes them much more formidable opponents, I think."

Harry thought that titling it an 'element of mystery' was a bit of a stretch, but he didn't say so. In essentials, Dumbledore seemed right… though that in itself was not a surprising fact.

"The Headmaster, your Head of House, and Severus will normally be aware of my whereabouts," Lupin told him as Harry mulled over Dumbledore's words. "If you'd ever like to see me, you can just ask one of them. You know I always welcome your company."

"Of course," Harry responded, giving him a small smile.

Lupin looked as though he was going to respond with a change of topic, but through Dumbledore's open door the bell signalling the end of lunch could be heard, and Harry lent him an apologetic look.

"I've really got to get to class," he told his ex-professor. "Sev—my fa—I've been told to get my grades up. I don't think missing my classes will help me much."

"Completely understandable," Lupin chuckled, rising from his seat. "It's always good to see you, Harry."

"You too," Harry said earnestly, warmed as Lupin gave him a light pat on the shoulder and nodded his goodbye. Harry returned the nod and gave Dumbledore a wave, and then made a quick exit from the office, wondering vaguely how much time he had to gather his transfiguration text and cursing himself for not having thought to bring it with him.

xxx

The advantage of having a seventh year class at the end of the day was that Severus could order them to the library to do independent research on the individual projects he would be expecting from them by the end of the year, thereby leaving himself some free time to grade essays and tend to his throbbing headache. For this he was immensely grateful.

The end of the double period was near, and Severus was reclining behind his desk, drumming his fingers thoughtlessly against the arm of his chair. His boredom had reached a peak, and he was looking forward to returning to his quarters at the end of the night. He watched the clock attentively, feeling very much like a schoolboy waiting for the end of his least favourite class.

Though the day's end did not come as quickly as Severus would have liked, it did eventually come. He remained in front of his desk for several minutes after the ringing of the bell; he was not especially keen on the idea of making his way through the crowded hallways at this very moment.

The audible chaos in the hallways died down after a short amount of time, prompting Severus to clear off his desk, storing the essays which he did not intend to view until a later date, and exit the classroom. Before he could return to his quarters he would need to visit the Slytherin common room, only for observational purposes and to subtly remind his students that he was keeping a close watch on all of them. They seemed to need that every once in a while.

Severus stepped out into the corridor and, exhaling his frustration that his day was not yet over, set off towards the common room. The closer he came to his destination, the quieter and more deserted the hallways became. In fact, he saw very few students, except for a group of Slytherin third years standing in a small huddle and quite obviously plotting something, however inane. Severus shot them a glare of annoyance as he stalked past, not because he was irritated by their gathering, but because their furtive glances and secretive stance made them anything but discreet—these elementary lapses in cunning were one of the most perturbing among the faults of Slytherins, at least to their Head of House.

The group of students disbanded soon after, most likely having realised that Severus would be heading back that way very soon and that remaining in a position with which he had seemed displeased would not be the wisest of decisions.

When Severus finally reached the common room several minutes later, he was pleased to find that there were many students within that would most likely spread the word of his appearance. One small first year, for example, had frozen mid-step when he'd entered, and was still gawking at him without realizing he was doing so. Several seventh years were seated on the couches, and had looked up to give him dutiful nods of greeting before going back to their quiet reading. A gaggle of girls sat in the corner nearest to the fireplace, glancing him and giggling about something toward which he held no curiosity. He cast a gaze of scrutiny about the room and stepped down onto the floor, silently circling the area and inspecting the activities of various children. Few were brave enough to speak to him, and those who did gave him only a reverent, "Sir," before returning to whatever had previously engaged them. This pleased him; he preferred to stay distant in moments such as these, knowing that his coldness added to the element of intimidation.

Satisfied that his appearance had been noted and that he had completed his task of making sure nothing was going wrong in the common room, Severus left soon after his arrival. He needed only to speak with Dumbledore about an impending change in the curriculum, and then he would be freed (assuming he was not asked to run any more purposeless errands) for the evening.

Ascending from the dungeons, Severus purposefully strode toward the stairs and, once he had reached the second landing, toward the Headmaster's office. He turned a corner and began down a hallway that was littered with students who were all presumably coming from the same class. He paid little attention to the stragglers until he noticed a speck of dark, messy hair among the crowd. His eyes narrowed and he searched out the face of the boy, confirming that it was (as suspected) Harry.

A curious thing happened then. Severus lifted his eyebrows and kept his eyes trained on Harry, waiting for the boy to look up and notice him. He did within mere seconds, but then immediately ducked his head and continued walking at a quickened pace. Severus frowned and stopped where he stood, turning and watching the boy hurry away from him. He lifted a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it, feeling rather bewildered and disliking the feeling greatly.

Because he did not want to attract attention, Severus didn't call out to the boy, nor did he follow him. He realized that standing in the middle of the hallway was a behaviour few students would expect from him and, though he did not particularly want to, turned and continued on his way. His expression of discontentment shifted to one of contemplativeness as he quickly replayed the situation in his mind.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that perhaps he had unintentionally directed a glare in Harry's direction, and the boy had sensed his tetchy mood; he may have avoided Severus' gaze out of a desire for self-preservation. This did not seem likely, however, for as much credit as Severus had learned to lend to the boy's skills of intuition, it could not be said that the boy was so astutely perceptive.

No, Severus had an idea that Harry's avoidance had absolutely nothing to do with either of their moods. He could guess that this was a furtherance of the measures the boy had been taking to distance himself from Severus since the night Severus had apprehended him in the middle of breaking yet another rule. He seemed to believe that steering clear of Severus for a while was the best course of action. Admittedly, he may have been right.

It made little sense, however, why Harry would suddenly take this to such an extent—from mere aloofness to definite evasion. Severus narrowed his eyes as he walked, considering this thought, and all at once, he understood what had triggered Harry's response to his presence. The child had put two and two together and came to the conclusion that Severus had sent Hermione because he could not stand to do it himself.

Leave it to Harry to assume the worst… this was the only thought Severus could conjure at this realization: a realization which came with an accompaniment of both agitation and a strange feeling of sympathy.

Though he had not planned to do anything with his night, Severus gathered that it was necessary to find a remedy to this situation without delay. As he came to this conclusion, all hopes of a quiet night with a dose of much needed alcohol promptly flew out the window.

xxx

Harry was mildly surprised when he didn't see Severus at the staff table and, with a certain amount of melancholy, again amounted it to his father's disinclination to see him. Unwilling to spend the hour sulking over Severus behaviour, however, Harry shifted the situation to the back of his mind, directing his attention to alternative (though not necessarily more pleasant) thoughts.

Chasing his food around his plate unenthusiastically, Harry contemplated the mound of homework waiting for him in atop his crimson coverlet. Gone were the days when teachers allowed a sort of adjustment period after the holidays; now, as a sixth year N.E.W.T. student, Harry found himself faced with an incomprehensible amount of work to do in just the first week back. Apparently, the professors were not going to stop for anything, not even the current events. Inside Hogwarts' walls, life continued at a rapid pace.

"Harry," said Hermione gently, shaking him from his contemplation.

"Yeah?"

"What are you thinking about?" she asked with concern. "You seem worried."

"Oh," said Harry dumbly. "Just homework—you know, so much to do."

"Are you sure that's all?" inquired Hermione, eyes narrowing keenly.

"What else would there be?"

Hermione shrugged to that; her expression told Harry that she had nothing specific to suspect, but that she still didn't quite believe him.

"Where's Ron, anyways?" asked Harry casually, before Hermione could think of another line of questioning to pursue.

"I'm not sure; I haven't seen him," Hermione confessed, looking about as if she were expecting him to suddenly pop up at the mention of his name. "Not like him to miss a meal, though."

"No, it's not," Harry concurred, joining Hermione in her surveillance of the Great Hall.

"Well," said Hermione as she returned her gaze to Harry. "I don't want to leave you here alone, but I've got to go to the library—only for a moment," she added at his roll of the eyes. "Would you like to join me?"

"Always," Harry responded dryly, pushing his plate away from him. "Maybe we'll meet Ron along the way."

Hermione giggled and shook her head. "No, I think he tries to stay as far away from the library as possible, actually. The last place we'll find him is there."

Harry laughed and rose from the table. As he did, however, he noticed that Severus had made an appearance after all, even if a little late. It was a moment before Harry realised that he was staring, and another before he realised that Severus was staring back. It was too late to look away, he gathered as Severus locked eyes with him and gestured for him to come to the staff table.

Harry apprehensively looked at Hermione, who was watching the scene unfold. She gave him an encouraging nod and said, "Go. I'll wait for you."

Harry's expression dulled. In truth, he had wanted her to demand that he ignore Severus' beckoning, and he glared at her for not doing so. She responded with a look of confusion, and he shook his head dismissively to say, _never mind. _

"I'll be back in a moment," he assured her unnecessarily.

Harry's walk toward Severus was a long one, made to seem far worse due to Severus' consistent gaze of scrutiny upon him.

"Yes?" Harry asked as he approached, half expecting to be reprimanded for the uncontrollable snappishness of his tone.

Severus lifted an eyebrow in response, but said simply, "I need to see you tonight: 8 o' clock, preferably."

That was all?

"Alright," Harry replied, frowning. "Your quarters?"

"Preferably."

"Alright," Harry said again.

"Loquacious today, I see."

Harry had no idea what loquacious meant, so he simply nodded. This appeared to amuse Severus; for what reason, Harry didn't know, but neither did he ponder it for too long.

"You may go," Severus said a moment later, his tone making Harry feel rather silly for not having moved sooner.

"Alright," Harry said for the third time, promptly turning and heading towards Hermione. He kicked himself mentally for sounding so simple-minded throughout their conversation when he heard Severus' laugh floating after him.

"What was that about?" asked Hermione as Harry approached.

"He wants to see me at 8 tonight," Harry responded grumpily, causing Hermione to lift her eyebrows.

"What for?"

"Not a clue," Harry replied shortly, though in reality, he thought he had a fairly good idea.

xxx

Harry and Hermione did not find out where Ron had been until much later that evening, when he came storming into the common room ranting about being made to serve a detention with Filch merely for wandering the corridors during dinner, which the caretaker deemed 'suspicious activity'. Hermione had responded that if it was so unfair, Ron should see McGonagall about it. Ron had retorted that the old hag would have probably agreed, since she hated him enough to write his mother about the "D" he was currently receiving in Advanced Transfiguration. Naturally, a quarrel had begun, and Harry found himself grateful for a reason to leave when 8 o' clock struck.

What Harry did not find himself grateful for as he left the common room, however, was his destination. He would have much preferred to be on his way to a Quidditch practise, or perhaps even on his way to do homework in the library, but no; he was on his way to 'talk' to Severus about Merlin only knew what.

On his way down to the dungeons, Harry passed many gatherings of young students, all of whom were eagerly utilizing the last half hour or so of their curfew. His amusement at their playful antics served to distract him somewhat from any thoughts about what was to occur during his and Severus' meeting, but it was not to say that he'd forgotten about it completely. In fact, several times the thought crossed his mind that he might turn back and offer Severus an excuse the next morning as to why he hadn't come. As soon as those ideas came, however, they left.

Harry was unsure about why he was so anxious about this encounter. Though he knew he hadn't done anything wrong, he was having unavoidable misgivings—the sort which usually accompany the immediate response of 'I didn't do it!' whenever confronted by a displeased adult. That unavoidable feeling of foreboding was settling over him, despite all the logic that told him there was nothing rational for which Severus could reprimand him this time around.

Harry arrived at Severus' door within a small amount of time, prompting him to contemplate how small the castle seemed now in comparison with the impression he'd had of it at the age of eleven. Spending little time on this thought, he rapped lightly upon the door and waited, listening carefully for footsteps from within. No sound came, however, and he was beginning to wonder if Severus had heard him at a when, at last, the door swung open slowly. Severus stared down at him, and after a pause, drawled, "You're fifteen minutes late."

Harry frowned deeply, disliking this greeting… if, indeed, it could even count as such. "You said _around, _not _at _eight," he reminded him, though he knew it might have been wiser to agree and apologise.

Severus seemed to concede on this point, however, for he considered Harry for only a moment before stepping away from the door, allowing Harry to enter.

Despite the urge to turn and walk in the other direction, Harry moved past Severus, trying to ignore the feelings of unease the man's intent gaze stirred in him.

"You appear to be anxious about something," Severus remarked coolly, his tone giving Harry the idea that he already knew what was causing said anxiety. "May I inquire as to the source of your concern?"

Because Harry could not blatantly refuse to respond, but at the same time could not bring himself to confess his apprehension, he merely shrugged and moved towards the sitting area.

Severus nodded, his suspicions confirmed, and did not press the topic any further. He followed his son and sat down across from him, resting his chin atop his fist and watching the boy contemplatively. Harry shifted uncomfortably, all too aware of Severus' attentive eyes, which seemingly hadn't abandoned their surveillance of him since he'd arrived.

"Shall I offer you tea and ask you how your first day back was?" Severus finally asked, though there was a note of undiluted sarcasm in his voice. "Or shall I get straight to the point?"

Harry's eyes widened at the bluntness of this question, and he answered unsurely, "I think you'd better get to it." To him, it was obvious that the man didn't want to waste time on small talk, and as far as his feelings on the issue went, he didn't want to be kept in trepidation any longer.

One side of Severus' mouth quirked upward, and he nodded. "I had thought so. Harry, are you aware of why I sent Miss Granger to get you today, rather than coming to get you myself?"

"Because… you're still angry with me?"

"No."

Harry began to nod solemnly, and then stopped mid-bob. "Wait—no? Really?"

"No, I was playing a joke on you," said Severus mockingly.

Harry's brows lowered and then rose again, and he muttered, "You don't have to be so mean."

"It was not intended to be cruel," responded Severus as the other side of his lips quirked, and his lips curled into a teasing smirk.

"Well, it seemed cruel."

Severus wanted to remark that Harry was being extraordinarily sensitive tonight, but given that this fact was true, decided that this would not be the best approach. "Harry," he said more earnestly, sobering his expression to pacify the boy, "I only sent Miss Granger because I disliked the idea of making an appearance in the Gryffindor common room, of all places, and because I was unsure whether or not you would be there to begin with. I knew where to find her simply because she is a creature of habit, and I was interested in simplifying the task I'd been asked to complete."

"How very Slytherin of you," Harry commented, shaking his head. His tone did not show it, but he was relieved to hear this.

"I'll consider that a compliment, for your sake," Severus replied seriously.

Harry nodded and gave a quiet laugh, but still didn't quite meet Severus' eyes. He aimed his gaze off to the side, and Severus frowned.

"That's not all that's bothering you," he observed.

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine," he contended.

"You're not," Severus disagreed, shaking his head. "But that's not to say you must tell me… I simply had an inkling it might have something to do with me."

Yes, Severus was a perceptive man; Harry knew this. What he was unsure of was whether this was a desirable quality for one's father to have. The more time Harry spent around him, the more he began to doubt whether being understood so thoroughly was a good thing. He wasn't willing to call Severus invasive, because he always left it up to Harry whether or not to expound on the observations he made… but knowing that he could be so easily read made Harry feel a bit unsettled.

Trying to shake off the feelings of transparency that had forced themselves upon him, Harry moved from his seat, and said awkwardly, "So… if that's all, can I umm… can I go?"

"Of course," Severus answered, gesturing towards the door.

"Thanks," Harry said, though he was not entirely sure for what he was thanking the man. He made his way towards the exit, staring at the dark wood and aiming to open and walk through that door as soon as possible. His hand landed upon the knob, and he was almost through when Severus' voice halted him.

"If you're entirely sure that you do not wish to address whatever it is that has you so very troubled…"

"What is it that you want to know?" Harry asked without turning around.

"I'm merely curious whether or not my assessment is correct," Severus told him. "Are you upset because of something I have done?"

"It's not just you, per se…" Harry mumbled, shuffling as he turned to face the man and leaning against the frame of the door.

From where he still sat, Severus lifted his eyebrows expectantly, but did not prompt Harry to continue. Strangely, his silence was more evocative of explanation than anything he might have said.

"I guess all you need to know is that I _am _trying to fix things… it's just difficult, that's all… and I'm not exactly sure… not sure where I stand with you, I suppose."

Severus gave no response to this; he leaned back in his chair and took in Harry's words, but did not answer the unspoken question. Harry waited, hoping that the man would offer some underhandedly comforting thoughts on the matter, but the silence continued on.

"I'm not going to Hogsmeade this weekend."

Severus nodded, but still said nothing.

"What are your thoughts on that?" Harry prompted.

"Probably a good idea. The weather is supposed to be awful."

"That's not why I'm not going."

"No?" Severus replied with an expression of curiosity.

"I'm not going because I reckon I don't deserve to," Harry clarified.

A tingle of satisfaction found its way into Severus' chest with Harry's statement, but he kept his expression neutral. It was good to see that Harry was taking responsibility for his actions, even if only out of a desire to ease the tension between the two of them. In the long run, Severus believed this would be a valuable lesson for Harry—not a reason for him to resent authority, but rather to appreciate the value of following the rules by associating self-inflicted guilt with misbehaviour.

Severus rose from his chair and crossed the room to where Harry stood, asking, "And why do you reckon that?" His voice was a great deal more gentle than he'd intended it to sound, but he spent little time dwelling on this, and more time observing Harry's expression of discomfort at this question.

For Harry, this seemed a tough, humbling question to answer. Instead of doing so, he opted for another question. "Aren't I right?"

"This isn't necessarily a matter of what you are _supposed_ to feel, Harry," Severus reminded him. "I require nothing of you, in this."

"You mean… you're really not going to punish me at all, then?"

"What would be the point?" inquired Severus.

Harry's brows knit above his nose; pushing off from the door frame, taking a step back, and crossing his arms, he looked at Severus suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

It was a moment before Severus responded, and when he did, it was with a silky voice and slow pace. "Why should I punish you," he asked, lifting his eyebrows as Harry took in his words with confusion, "when you are doing such a marvellous job of punishing yourself?"

The only reason Harry's frown did not deepen was that it was already so severe to begin with. Severus met his perplexed expression with a smirk of his own, and as Harry's face began to reflect his understanding of exactly what Severus had been attempting to achieve over the past week, Severus nodded to affirm every thought that he could practically see manifesting itself in Harry's head. As comprehension set in, the boy's mouth hung open dumbly, and Severus decided that, for now, their conversation would have to come to a close. After all, it was late, and it would never do to end the night with accusations of manipulation—accusations which, if Severus knew Harry, had a good chance of being thrown about.

Nodding his goodnight rather than saying it, Severus slowly closed the door, leaving Harry to stand out in the hallway, pondering over what he had just realized and, now, the fact that Severus had just dismissed him.

In the dark corridor, Harry's hand moved to scratch his scalp, and his frown returned. Unsatisfied with the abrupt conclusion to their conversation, he (in the true Gryffindor spirit of impulse) reached up and rapped on the door again, with more force than he had earlier that evening.

This time, it did not take Severus long to respond. The door opened again, and he stared down at his son with a reproving look.

"You miss me already?" he questioned with a snort, causing Harry to sigh.

"Can I just come in again?"

"Yes, yes, waste my entire night away," Severus breathed as he stepped aside, though his expression was one of good nature.

"Well, I have a great deal of things to speak to you about!"

"Such as?" Severus asked dubiously, closing the door behind Harry. "You didn't seem so keen on conversation when you first arrived."

"Well, a few things have come to mind," Harry responded. He didn't want to explain that, for some reason, it seemed something had been settled between the two of them. For whatever reason, knowing that his father had only been attempting to teach him a lesson, rather than holding a genuine grudge against him, was one of the most comforting thoughts he'd been graced with in a great while.

"Well, if you're really so eager to spend this much time with a surly old man…" said Severus, evoking a small laugh from Harry.

"Old?" repeated Harry, settling back into his spot on the couch, which was still warm. "Middle-aged, if anything."

Severus lifted his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head. "Insolent child," he remarked as he put on a pot of coffee, thinking of the long night ahead as he neglected the canisters of tea sitting several metres away. It was with fondness, however, that he considered the reason for his late night. His eyes flickered to the boy sitting on the couch, flipping through a book that had been previously lying on the coffee table, and he smiled despite himself. At least his son made pleasant company.

Really, when put in that perspective, the consumption of his time didn't seem so dreadful after all.

xxx end chapter 41 xxx

**AN:**

BTW, I did do a drawing of Severus' house (at least in my mind) which I posted on my yahoo group, if you want to see it. It's narrower than it is on paper because I had to scan it in, but it's something that might be interesting…

Thanks so much to my betas, **Lucie** and **Allison Carroll**, who did this chapter.

Love you all platonically!


	42. A New Spy

**Chapter 42**

A New Spy

**xxx**

Harry stood silently at the front of the Room of Requirement, surveying his surroundings with an austere expression that didn't seem befitting of a face so young. By his side stood Ginny Weasley, who, though equally as quiet, was scrutinizing him rather than the room. If he would have looked over at her, he would have wondered at the expression of concern on her face. For the moment, however, he was oblivious to all except his own train of thought.

Harry and Severus had ended their conversation on a serious note several nights ago. Severus had encouraged the reforming of this group, even if only to warn the other students of the danger ahead. The time had come, Severus had told him, to begin making preparations for what would ultimately be both the climax and the resolution of the war; it was doubtful that Harry would be the only intended casualty when the time came, so it was reasonable to educate those who would likely be targets as well. As far as his father was concerned, students were the greatest threat to Voldemort; for if resilient and resistant to his actions while young, the complications they would cause as adults would surely be far worse.

So, after considering the prospect for several days and consulting several peers on the issue, Harry had decided to take his father's well reasoned advice and reform the D.A. Perhaps it was not for the purpose of leading them through battle tactics and duelling strategy (Moody had been doing an admirable job of teaching them those particular skills throughout the year), but it was an excellent way to gain support and advise caution where necessary. A number of things could be accomplished through periodic meetings—this had not been a source of concern for Harry over the past year, due to his preoccupation with other issues in his life—but the attack on St. Mungo's had reminded everyone of the reality that outside of Hogwarts' walls, there was a silent yet constantly waging war occurring throughout the Wizarding World.

"Where are they?" Harry finally asked quietly, turning his intent gaze to the door. He said this in reference to Ron and Hermione, who had taken on the task of finding everyone who had previously been a member of the D.A. and requesting their presence at this impromptu meeting.

"I'm sure they're on their way—it'll just take a while for everyone to be rounded up. I seriously doubt activating the coins has notified anyone; I lost mine three weeks into the summer."

"Responsible," Harry commented tersely, causing Ginny to whip her head around and glare fiercely at him.

"You don't have to be so mean," she responded, crossing her arms. "I know you're tense, but that's no reason to take it out on anyone else—especially me."

Harry sighed exasperatedly, and said, "I'm not trying to be mean, Ginny—"

"No, you've just been spending too much time around your father, that's all," she interrupted grudgingly, moving towards the door and leaning against the wall there.

"It's got nothing to do with him," Harry responded, frowning at the accusation. It did occur to him, however, that there might have been some truth to her statement. Without meaning to, he had sounded remarkably like Severus several moments ago.

"Oh, I'll bet," Ginny remarked sarcastically.

"Ginny—"

"No, it's fine, Harry. Just leave it," she said, opening up the door. "I'm going to go see where Hermione and Ron have got to. Stay here in case they return."

Harry hadn't had any plans to do otherwise, but as she was out the door the moment she'd finished speaking, he had no chance to tell her as much. He sighed and moved to one of the chairs along the side of the room, sinking down into it and running his hands through his disorderly mop of hair.

He'd been prone to snappishness all day long, and had succumbed to the temptation several times now. Earlier, he had left the common room in a fit of temper after telling Hermione off for reminding him about an upcoming Transfiguration test. In retrospect, it had been a foolish thing to become so worked up over; enforcing good study habits had always been a habit of Hermione's, and often a helpful one at that. Still, at the time, he had taken it rather personally.

Still worse was how he had reacted to another of Ron's poorly constructed jokes: he had promptly informed him that he had, despite his best efforts, failed to adopt the same humorous trait that was possessed by his older brothers, and that for this reason, it was in everyone's best interest that he stop trying.

It was not in Harry's nature to snap at his friends, especially with such cutting insults. He was unsure what to blame these instances on, other than the stress he was experiencing from a number of factors. He was still recovering from the rather taxing holiday he'd spent with his father: though he had not previously realized how stressful it had been, now that things were returning to their normal state, he understood that both of them had been under pressures that they had never previously had to face. Severus had been forced to share his space with an adolescent who, Harry could admit, was not always the ideal housemate. Harry had been obligated to put up with Severus' inclinations to snappishness, and his states of indifference and fastidiousness, which the man seemed prone to fluctuating between at random. As far as trials went, it could have gone much worse… but it had been easy by no means.

Though he was sure that certain elements of their relationship would return to normal now that they were both back in their comfort zones, Harry could not help but feel a certain amount of tension every time he returned to Severus' quarters. He was still feeling uncomfortable with the fact that Severus had not punished him for his last misdeed; though the man had assured him that he'd been punished enough, Harry felt—and perhaps this was out of sheer paranoia—that the blow was still sure to fall. Every conversation he'd had with Severus since three nights ago had invariably begun on a note of nervousness from Harry, and had ended with Severus making a noticeable effort to put him at ease.

Harry was, of course, glad for the reprieve Severus seemed to be granting by doing this, but it was out of character in comparison with the remoteness the man had displayed when it had come to shows of affection over the holidays. Perhaps it had been that in his home, where he felt most exposed, he had wanted to prevent a feeling of vulnerability—this hadn't struck Harry as a significant thought until now, and he wondered why he had not lent consideration to any of these factors while he had stayed with the man. If he had focused more on his father's feelings during the time, there was a chance that things might have gone better.

It did seem rather silly to focus on what couldn't be changed, however. Aside from the few rows they'd endured, the holiday had served as an assurance that even if their time together wasn't always harmonious, they were both capable of finding ways to deal with one another.

Harry was relieved when, a short while later, Hermione was the first one to enter the room. She greeted him with a fleeting smile and a comforting pat of the arm, saying immediately, "I've gone through my portion of the list. I've asked them to meet us here about fifteen minutes from now; that should allow them to finish up whatever they are doing, and hopefully Ron will be here by then." Harry nodded, and Hermione took a glance around. "Where's Ginny?"

"She went to find you and Ron," Harry answered stiffly.

"Oh, well I'm sure she's with him, then," Hermione responded absently, still gazing around the room. "New books?" she questioned, as she moved to the bookshelves that were aligned against the wall furthest from the door.

"The room does have several new features," Harry noted as he followed her, tension ebbing away somewhat at change of topic. As the year went on, Harry was finding Hermione's presence more and more comfortable, even when he felt that he would rather be alone. "It must know something I don't."

"I'm not sure if that's a good or a bad thing," Hermione mumbled, pulling over a stepping stool and climbing atop it. "I don't think we even have some of these texts in the library," she commented, rifling through the titles on the top shelf.

"You have the library memorised?" Harry asked, coming to stand next to her.

Hermione angled her head downward and lifted her eyebrows, apparently trying for a threatening look. The effect was ruined, however, by the fact that, even on the stepping stool, she was still only a few inches taller than Harry. Harry tried to hold back a laugh, and Hermione's expression relented into an expression of airy annoyance. "It's only because I've gone through the library's index so many times," she explained, returning to her evaluation of the book titles. "I'm always on the lookout for new texts. I just like knowing they're available."

Harry was about to ask her what sort of books had appeared on that shelf when the door opened, and in walked Ron, with Ginny at his heels.

"Did you tell everyone?" Harry asked, moving away from Hermione and towards his other friend. Behind him, Hermione hopped off the stool and pushed it against the wall, making her way over to them.

"Everyone we could find," Ron answered, shrugging. "There might have been a few I missed, but I'm sure word will spread soon enough."

"Hopefully," Harry said.

Neville was the first to arrive, closely flanked by the Creevey brothers. The arrivals came quickly after that, one after another, until a moderately large group of students was assembled before Harry. They all talked animatedly, speculating loudly upon the reasons for which they had been gathered; Harry could not help the surge of annoyance he felt at this, for if they would only quiet down, he thought, then he would simply _tell _them the purpose of the meeting.

While Harry stood quietly at the front of the room, Hermione took a different approach. With a meaningful glare, she cleared her throat loudly, gaining the attention of several students. Seeing that she had achieved some effect, she cleared her throat again, causing a few more students to direct their gazes towards her.

"For goodness sakes, Hermione, you're beginning to remind me of Umbridge," Ginny muttered in her direction before inserting two fingers into her mouth and eliciting a high pitched whistle. Silence fell at this, and she looked at Hermione in triumph. "And _that _is how it's done," she declared. Hermione lifted her eyebrows in a mixture of disapproval and slight huffiness, but said nothing more.

"Erm, thanks," Harry said to the two girls, who were stepping away. Keenly aware of all the pairs of eyes resting on him, he turned towards the other students, and gave the group a nod of recognition. "I'm glad to see so many of you back here," he told them in way of greeting, searching out all the familiar faces. He received a few encouraging smiles, and he continued.

"I'm sure you're all a little confused about why I've asked you here today. It is true, as I've heard several of you suggest," Harry said pointedly, aiming his gaze in the direction of the offending students, "that we no longer have need for a group in which we learn how to defend ourselves—we have Moody for that. However, I think it is important that we are all aware of the current dangers that we are facing. It makes very little sense to prepare ourselves when we don't even know what we are supposed to be fighting against."

"Wouldn't Dumbledore tell us if there was something we needed to be watching out for?" asked Zacharias Smith.

"Dolt," Harry heard Ron cough from behind him. He suppressed a smile, and answered the cheeky boy.

"You should remember that not everyone in Hogwarts is loyal to our cause," Harry reminded him stiffly. "It would be a bit difficult to announce over dinner what I am about to tell you."

Zacharias stared challengingly at him for several moments, and then leaned back and tipped his chin upwards. "Fine, continue then."

Out of pure irritation and short temper, Harry wanted to tell him to leave, right then and there. Instead, however, he merely set his jaw and stared straight faced at the younger student.

"You know, if you could just keep your mouth shut for the rest of this meeting, the whole thing would probably go a lot faster," Ginny finally snapped when Harry failed to respond verbally, drawing a low mixture of chuckles and quiet sniggering from the rest of the group.

"That's true," added Luna, who was sitting only a few seats away from Zacharias. He aimed his haughty glare at her, and she shrugged. "Well, it is," she said unapologetically.

"_Anyway_," Harry continued, before Zacharias had a chance to respond. "I'll get to the point—there's no use in giving you a preamble of sorts. Hogwarts may no longer be safe, and you should be warned to guard your conversations and keep wary of your surroundings."

"Why aren't we safe anymore?"

"Who told you this?"

"You can't be serious—"

"Shut up!" Harry shouted, putting a quick stop to the noise and commotion. "I can't tell you everything. All I can say is that Voldemort is training someone to be his protégé, and in all likelihood, that someone attends this school."

"Do you know who it is?" asked a voice that Harry instantly recognized as Neville's. He found his fellow Gryffindor's round face in the group, and shook his head.

"Probably a Slytherin," said a Ravenclaw boy, whose name Harry didn't know.

"Watch what you're saying about Slytherin," Harry found himself responding. He saw several people's eyebrows shoot up into their fringe at that, and he had to admit that even he himself was a bit surprised to hear it coming from his own mouth. "That is to say, we shouldn't rule out the possibility that it could easily be someone from any other house."

"Did Snape tell you all this?" asked Susan Bones, who was nervously chewing at the corners of her nails.

"_Professor_ Snape," Harry heard Hermione mumble from behind him. He couldn't help but glance back at her, smiling at her peevish expression.

"He told me parts of it," Harry admitted. He didn't mention that he had recommended the reformation of the group. Little as he cared to admit it, such knowledge would most likely discourage many from attending.

"Then how do we know that it's true?"

Harry's eyes quickly snapped to the person who voiced the comment: Zacharias, once again. He set his jaw, not for the first time, and opened his mouth to retort nastily. The voice that came out, however, was not his own, and it took him a moment to realise that Hermione had stepped forward, and was glaring equally as coldly at the boy, answering for him.

"Professor Snape has never done anything to harm a student," she said evenly, her voice far more controlled than Harry suspected she felt at the moment. "He has never done anything but work to keep this school safe, and to make sure that all of you idiots get something accomplished in your time here. He may not be nice, and he might not like most of you much, but that doesn't erase the fact that in terms of good and evil, he is on our side."

"He's still a git," muttered Zacharias, to which Ron responded:

"Well, that's got nothing to do with it!"

"Get out," Harry suddenly said to the Hufflepuff, who immediately took on an expression of incredulousness.

"You can't tell me—"

"GET OUT!" Harry bellowed, throwing his arm out to the side and pointing at the door. Silence fell over the room, and Zacharias slowly rose from his spot on the floor, seemingly astonished by Harry's outburst. Without another word, he moved to the door, and gave only one glance back at the rest of the students before walking through it.

"Now," Harry said icily, addressing the remainder of the group. "Does anyone else have anything to say about my father, or is that matter settled?"

There was a noticeable jolt that occurred for several of the students at Harry's use of the word "father". Word had travelled, yes, but very rarely did Harry or Snape display their relationship for anyone to see, neither through actions nor through words. What Harry said, however, confirmed for many what they had only heard about until this date.

"Good," Harry said after a moment, ignoring the jarred expressions that he saw. "Then I think we've covered all that we need to for today. If any of you have questions, you may ask me, but be careful about where we are and who is around us at the time. You'll be alerted when we decide a time for another meeting."

Harry's gaze remained locked with the wall opposite him as the students quietly filed out of the room. He didn't want to observe their expressions; didn't want to be able to read what was blatantly obvious—they didn't really know who he was anymore. Not at this point in his life.

xxx

Harry's return to the common room did not go as planned. Somewhat uncharacteristically, his feet carried him not to the Gryffindor Tower, but to the library instead. Of course, they did not do so of their own volition, but Harry wasn't sure when he had made the decision to do late night research rather than going to sleep: sleep that was desperately needed.

The meeting had spiked even his own curiosity, however, on the subject of the potion. He had realized on some level that even if someone had asked him to explain everything that was going on, he would have found it difficult to do so. As informed as his father had attempted to keep him, Harry had never been briefed on the intricate details of the situation. He supposed that no one had figured this necessary. On that note, he found himself a bit resentful of the others involved. While good to know that help was available, there was a certain sense of debilitation that occurred with the realization that everyone else was doing the work because they did not think him capable of it.

Well, if Harry could not participate at this point in time, he was at least going to make sure he was educated on the topic. Choosing a table in one of the well-lit areas in the library, he placed his bag in a chair and moved to peruse the many shelves of books for the tome.

xxx

Severus felt as though every night that passed was merely a repeat of the night before. He had to wonder to himself when his life had become so monotonous—at one time, he would have been answering summons, putting his life on the line for what seemed to be a good cause—though his decision to spy had less to do with the saving of the world and more to with his disinclination to participate in any sort of future where Voldemort had more power. Now, however, he was finishing up yet another turn in the constant cycle of homework grading and getting ready to settle down with a drink and possibly, if he could keep his eyes open for long enough, this month's release of "The Practical Pioneer."

With a half-filled glass of good cognac and his magazine in hand, he settled into his chair and dimmed all of the lights except the one nearest. He swirled the deep amber liquid in his glass and watched it roll around the edges, then lifted it to his lips and took a long sip. Setting it down on the small table next to him, he opened his magazine with a snap and began reading.

Just when Severus was beginning to enjoy the same monotony that he had thought of so negatively early in the evening, the sound of interruption came in the form of knocking at his door.

Severus' head fell back against the chair, and he heard himself groaning in frustration. The temptation to ignore whoever was standing outside at eleven o' clock at night was an appealing one, but sadly one that he could not give in to.

With a glower on his face, he rose and stalked to the door. Opening it just a crack, he peered out into the hallway, eyes narrowing.

Standing there, face highlighted by the stream of faint light issuing from the ajar door, was Harry and behind him, with a nasty smile and glittering eyes, Filch.

"Argus," Severus greeted, lifting an eyebrow, and sparing Harry only a glance. "How may I be of service?"

"Found this one wandering through the restricted section of the library," Filch informed him almost gleefully. "I thought you would have a special interest in taking care of him, his being your spawn and all."

"Indeed," Severus responded flatly, ignoring Harry's yelp of surprise when he stuck his hand through the crack in the door and pulled him in by the front of his shirt. "Thank you, Argus. Trust that this will be dealt with in an _appropriate _manner."

Before Filch had time to respond, Severus snapped the door shut and rounded on Harry, who immediately threw his hands up and opened his mouth to explain.

"I swear, I—"

"Sit down," Severus said, gesturing towards the couch.

"But I—"

"You aren't in trouble," Severus told him tiredly, moving to his own chair. "Sit."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling slightly silly. "Alright then."

Severus waited for Harry to be seated, and then picked up his glass of cognac again. "So," he began casually, watching Harry out of the corners of his eyes as he took a sip, "would you like to explain to me what you were doing in the restricted section of the library?"

Harry hesitated, and then asked, "Are you sure I'm not in trouble? Because it sounds like I am—"

"Feeling guilty about something, perhaps?"

"No…" Harry replied.

"I'm merely interested in your explanation," Severus assured him. "I'm sure you had a good reason for being there."

"Why are you suddenly giving me the benefit of the doubt?" Harry asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

Severus merely smirked, and lifted his shoulders.

"Fine," Harry said, seeing that Severus was not going to elaborate. "I just wanted to read the text on the potion that we're working on—I just wanted to be as informed as everyone else involved."

"Foolish boy," Severus breathed, rising and moving to the bookshelves. "You could have come and asked me."

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Well, you never do, and yet somehow, you manage to interrupt my evening despite all of your best intentions," Severus reminded him dryly. "Here," he said, thrusting the book into Harry's hands. "Just see that it is returned in the same condition."

"I will," Harry mumbled.

"You really should be careful about being out after curfew," Severus told him as the boy placed the book in his bag. "The rules do still apply to you, even if you have a substantial reason for being out after hours."

"I realise that," Harry replied grudgingly, sitting back in his chair.

"I am merely reminding you," Severus told him. "I'll let it slide this time, but don't let it happen again."

"And if I do?" Harry questioned.

"Expulsion, of course," Severus replied soberly, titling his glass to his lips and finishing off the last of what the glass contained.

"That's rather harsh," Harry commented, a wry smile taking the place of his frown.

Severus shrugged. "I make no apologies; it's the way I am."

"I suppose I'll just have to accept that, hmm?"

"Quite right, you will."

Harry chuckled lightly, and then glanced at the time. "I should probably be getting back to my common room."

Severus followed Harry's gaze to the clock, and nodded. "Yes, you should," he agreed, rising concurrently with Harry. "I'll walk you back."

"I'm pretty sure I can make it back to the common room on my own," Harry said flippantly, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and moving towards the door.

"Harry," Severus breathed exasperatedly, stepping after him. "If Argus Filch shows up at my door again with you in hand, I am going to be more than annoyed—with both of you. Allow me to escort you; it will save us both the trouble."

Harry shrugged and stepped out into the hallway, pausing there while Severus closed the door. When his father began walking again, he did the same.

"Thanks for the book, by the way," Harry said after a long, quiet moment, raising his eyes (with a certain amount of futility, due to the limited amount of light in the corridor) to meet his father's.

"Of course," Severus responded, inclining his head. "In the future, at least attempt to ask me first before you take it upon yourself to go rummaging through the restricted section."

"Where's the adventure in that?" Harry asked jokingly, and Severus rolled his eyes.

"Gryffindors," he muttered under his breath; his peeved expression broke when he felt Harry reach over and hit him lightly on the arm.

"Slytherins," Harry muttered in retaliation.

Their walk continued in silence until they reached the second floor of the castle, at which point Severus' thoughtful murmur caught Harry's attention.

"Something to say?" Harry asked, careful of his tone. He didn't want to sound too intrusive, or possibly disrespectful.

"What?"

"You said 'hmm'," Harry pointed out rather obviously. "That usually means you have something on your mind."

"Ah, that," was Severus' reply, and he apparently fell back into thought, for he didn't respond.

"So do you?"

"What?"

"Do you have something to say?"

"Harry, will you be quiet for one moment and let a man think?" Severus snapped, his eyes flickering to the ceiling.

"Just asking," Harry muttered, before falling quiet again.

Harry decided quickly that he would not be the one to attempt conversation again. He treaded along beside Severus, turning over unimportant thoughts and all the while waiting expectantly for Severus to finish his cycle of thoughts and voice whatever he was pondering.

"I've been thinking, Harry—"

"I've noticed," Harry interrupted.

"Do you want me to finish my thought or not?" Severus asked with a glare, wondering just when he had begun to tolerate such insolence, and wondering if it was too late to correct such a habit.

Harry quickly shut his mouth and nodded, trying hard not to smile.

"I have plans to visit the house this weekend; I want to finish the third floor, but it will require a trip into town and quite a bit of work. Would you be interested in accompanying me?"

_Of course! _Harry wanted to exclaim; but one thing stopped him. Things were settling down and getting back to normal now that he and his father had returned to Hogwarts. Would returning to the house set them back again?

"Well…" Harry started hesitantly. He stopped when he saw the look of immediate regret for asking on Severus' face.

"It's perfectly fine if you don't wish to," Severus said gruffly, waving a dismissive hand.

"No, I want to—" Harry quickly objected. "I just—" but then he looked again at Severus, and he couldn't refuse. He felt too guilty. "I'll go. I'll just finish my charms essay on Thursday instead of Friday," he lied.

"Well, if you can manage," Severus replied. "But of course, if you don't have time to get it done, remember that your studies should come first."

"Alright, that sounds fine," Harry agreed, relaxing slightly. Severus seemed to understand his indecision—perhaps not the reason for it, but at least he recognized that it was present—and had provided him with a way out should he choose to remain at Hogwarts.

"This appears to be your stop," Severus said a moment later as they approached the portrait hole, where the fat lady was snoozing contentedly.

"That it does," Harry agreed. "So, I'll see you Friday if I don't see you tomorrow?" Of course, he did have plans to see Severus tomorrow. It was the man's birthday, after all. However, Harry had no intention of letting him know this.

"Early Saturday will suffice," Severus said. "Unless you wanted to leave Friday."

"Might be nice," said Harry, thinking of his rather large bed there and shrugging. There were aspects of staying in a home as opposed to a dormitory that were rather comforting.

"Well, yes, Friday then," Severus amended. "Meet me in my office at seven."

"Okay," murmured Harry as a yawn escaped him. He blinked away the resulting tears and shook his head.

"Go to bed," Severus commanded gently.

Harry nodded in agreement. "'Night," he said to Severus, who softened his expression in return.

With an utterance of _Jobberknoll, _he was off to bed.

xxx

"So what are you going to do?" asked Hermione, easily stepping to the side, away from Harry's lazily cast hex; she half-heartedly aimed her wand at him in return. Both she and Harry had mastered today's particular lesson some time ago, and were now passing the time while Moody guided the other students toward perfection.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "It's too last minute to—_Protego!_—buy him anything. I couldn't get to Hogsmeade without him knowing."

"Well, why keep it a secret?" Hermione questioned by way of proposal. "It's no secret to him that his birthday is tonight, you realise."

"Yes, but he doesn't know that I know," Harry explained, causing Hermione to frown. "You know?"

"Harry, I'm going to stop you before you start rambling," Hermione said seriously, raising her eyebrows.

"_Hermione_," Harry half-whinged, dropping his wand hand to his side. "Please, just help me figure something out. I'm no good at this."

"Apparently!" Hermione exclaimed, as Moody barked "Constant Vigilance!" at Harry as he passed behind him. Groaning, Harry raised his wand again and continued.

"Oof!" Hermione puffed as Harry's curse came harder than she had expected, causing the shielding charm she had erected to lapse slightly, sending her to the ground.

"Sorry," said Harry, wincing. "Didn't mean to do that."

"No, it's fine," Hermione replied breathily, quickly pushing herself to her feet. "Anyway; why don't you try making him something?"

"What, like a picture frame decorated with dried macaroni noodles?" Harry asked dryly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously not."

"Well, what does one _make _for Severus Snape?"

"You would know better than I would!" replied Hermione, throwing her hands out at her sides for emphasis.

"You lend too much credit to my powers of perception," Harry responded.

"My, you have been spending a lot of time around him," said Hermione. "You're starting to sound like him a bit."

"Don't say that," Harry groaned, quickly raising his wand as Moody stepped by again.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Hermione amended, lifting her shoulders. "You're still nicer, at least."

"I hope so!"

"Well, what about a cake?" Hermione proposed.

"A cake?"

"Everyone likes cake, Harry."

"Even grumpy Potions Masters?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"Even them, I'm sure," Hermione chuckled, giving Harry a sympathetic look.

"I don't even know how to bake a cake," Harry said, half to himself. "Well, I mean, I do with a Muggle oven… but with magic?"

"It's not much different," Hermione told him. "We learned about this in Muggle Studies, third year. You could just use the room of requirement."

"So you know how to do it, then?" asked Harry.

"Well, yes—"

"Want to help?" Harry asked, smiling.

"Harry, I've got an essay to write—"

"Aren't I more important?" asked Harry, pouting.

"Well—I suppose, but to bake a cake, Harry?"

"It won't take long! We could just do it after class—"

"But we have another class—"

"Skive off!"

"Harry," Hermione interjected severely. "I _don't _skive."

"Hermione," was all Harry said after that, tilting his head to the side and giving her a mixed expression of annoyance, disbelief, and amusement. "Please."

"_Ugh, Harry_," Hermione growled, throwing her head back and looking at the ceiling. "Fine," she said, looking back at him and glaring. "But only _after _my last class. Meet me up by the room of requirement, and don't be late."

"Yes ma'am," Harry replied, saluting her mockingly. He could tell by her expression that what she responded with was meant to be scathing, but the sound of the bell spared him that particular grief.

xxx

It was late that night when Harry finally made his way down the corridors in the dungeon, holding a three layered chocolate cake in one hand and picking bits of batter out of his hair with the other. Apparently, baking a cake using magic was not as simple as Hermione had made it out to be.

Harry was trying not to regret not having done something more exciting for his father's birthday. He did realize that, since Severus had not even mentioned his birthday at all, he probably did not want a big deal made out of it. Still, Harry felt it was his duty to at least recognize this particular date, even if no one else did.

Harry stopped first at Severus' office, knowing the man's proclivity toward late night work sessions. What he found upon arrival, however, was a closed door without light streaming out from underneath. An unanswered knock confirmed his suspicions. The office was indeed vacant.

Harry quite naturally assumed that if Severus was not in his office, his quarters were the place to find him. Beginning to feel a bit silly for roaming through the Slytherin dungeons with a daintily frosted cake, he quickened his pace in that direction.

He luckily reached Severus' quarters without being seen. Once again, however, he found that the space between the door and the grey stone of the floor was darkened. He knocked at the door anyway, and received no answer. Shrugging slightly, and deciding he had nothing to lose, he whispered the password to Severus' quarters and opened the door slowly. On some level, he knew that if Severus were there, he might not be pleased that Harry had simply let himself in without being expected to do so. However, he was sure that once Severus learned of his intentions, his irritation would ebb away; and furthermore, Harry did not want to walk back through the dungeons and up to the common room with this cake in his hands. He had come too far for that.

The rooms were darkened throughout, to Harry's disappointment. He had half expected to come upon Severus sitting at his desk, with only a small area lit: enough light by which he could grade his seemingly bottomless pile of papers, or read through a book, as he often did. He found no such thing, though. Severus' quarters were dark and hollow and cold, and Harry suddenly felt invasive for being there.

His retreat was speedy, because he suddenly felt as though he was being watched; like Severus knew, without being present, that Harry was there. He rushed back out into the hallway, cake still in hand, and turned around to close the door—

"Potter?"

Harry froze. Hand still outstretched towards the doorknob, he turned his head slowly to observe McGonagall standing there, holding her wand and watching him with a perplexed expression.

"What are you doing in Professor Snape's quarters? And… is that—a cake?"

"Erm," said Harry, looking down at his hands. "Yes."

"Are you stealing a cake from Professor Snape's rooms, Potter?" asked McGonagall, appalled.

"No!" Harry quickly objected, throwing out his hand in protestation, and almost dropping the cake in the process. He fumbled a bit and paused to steady it with his other hand, and then looked back up at his Head of House. "I made this cake."

McGonagall frowned.

"Today is his birthday," Harry explained, feeling rather dumb. "So I made him a cake."

"Oh," said McGonagall, apparently not expecting this explanation at all. She narrowed her eyes a bit and looked him up and down.

"I'm not lying!"

"No one said you were, Potter," McGonagall responded.

"Well… it seemed like you were thinking it."

"Apparently, you are no legilimens like your father," McGonagall chuckled, apparently beginning to glean some amusement from this situation.

"Yeah, well," Harry muttered, beginning to feel his face heat up. "Do you know where he is?"

"An Order meeting," McGonagall told him, for the first time looking somewhat sympathetic. "I just left from it—he'll still be a while."

"Oh, I see," Harry said, unable to keep that air of disappointment out of his voice.

"He did tell me you would be spending some time together this weekend though," McGonagall said, and Harry was surprised to hear that she had softened her tone a bit. Harry looked up at her questioningly, and she explained, "Since I am your Head of House, I'm to be notified when you're taken out of the school for a period of time. He did seem pleased, though, if I know Severus. And, somewhat unfortunately," she said dryly, "I do."

Harry wasn't quite sure how to respond to this without seeming childishly hopeful or cheeky, so he settled for a pleased facial expression and nothing more. McGonagall seemed appeased by this, as she settled her hand on Harry's shoulder.

"You should get back up to your common room," she told him, patting him on the arm and removing her hand. "I've already had a complaint about you from Filch this week, you realise."

"I realise," Harry mumbled, remembering that night with a twinge of annoyance.

McGonagall followed Harry through and out of the dungeons, and made to part with him at the stairs. "Straight to your common room, Potter, remember that."

Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. "Where else would I go, Professor?"

"I can only imagine," responded McGonagall, sighing and shaking her head.

Harry watched as the Professor turned and moved down the hallway, and then began to ascend quickly up the stairs. If he were caught out after curfew tonight, after all, it was just him and Filch, and that was a fate he did not wish for himself.

xxx

If not for the important context involved in the meeting, Severus would have felt mildly perturbed at being asked to stay when others were being granted the freedom to leave for the night. Because the matters at hand involved him directly, however, the invitation made him feel rather useful.

As a majority of the gathering dispersed and cleared from the room, Severus realised that the remaining group was smaller than he had expected it to be. He sat back in his chair and observed his residual compatriots: only Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, and Shackelbolt remained. He narrowed his eyes. Though they had been briefed on the situation during the meeting—the possibility that Dumbledore had found another avenue by which he could monitor Voldemort's actions—he could find no logical reason for why these select individuals had been chosen to stay. It was an unexpected choice for Dumbledore to make. Gazing around the table, he realised that the sentiment was shared.

"Friends," Dumbledore intoned as the last stragglers exited the room and it finally became silent. He nodded in greeting to each of them, his expression solemn. "It seems that you may be confused about your purpose here. I would like to assure you that any questions on that topic will be answered shortly.

"I find myself in nearly the same position as I had been in many years ago, and have decided that the best course of action I can take is to repeat the procedure I followed then. I was approached recently by a former student. It seems he joined the Death Eaters only a year after he graduated. Like many young men, however, he apparently did not realise at the time what he was agreeing to, and now seeks to make penance for his actions. He has agreed to bring me information in return for a declaration of his innocence after the war."

"Who was the student?" asked Severus with a contemplative frown, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed and his chin rested on his knuckles.

"Branson Kinnaird," Dumbledore told him, shifting his gaze. "Perhaps you remember him? He did ask after you, actually."

"Of course," Severus replied slowly, nodding. "I mentored him in Potions throughout his entire seventh year. Very ambitious—adept at the craft." He lifted an eyebrow, and continued, "I am assuming he never pursued that line of work?"

"No, I suppose not," Dumbledore answered.

"Waste of my time," Severus said in a low, harsh tone.

"Perhaps not," Dumbledore replied mildly. "Should he prove to have noble intentions, I am considering offering him a Potions position at Hogwarts."

Severus drew his eyebrows further together. "And what does that mean for me?"

"You have been interested in the Defence position for quite some time…"

Shocked, Severus cleared his throat, and answered, "Yes, I have."

"But now is not the time to discuss such a possibility," Dumbledore said abruptly, returning his attention to the others and ignoring Severus' subsequent huff of irritation. "For the moment, I am more concerned with first investigating his loyalty, and secondly, ensuring that all our affairs are in order. Tonks, Kingsley—I need only your promise that, should everything go as planned, you will testify before the Wizengamot that Mr. Kinnaird is indeed on the right side of all this."

Curt, professional nods answered Dumbledore's proposition, and he continued.

"Remus, your job is a bit more entailed. I believe you are the perfect candidate to track Mr. Kinnaird; I want to be assured of both his proficiency as a spy and of his dedication to our cause."

"Albus," said Severus as Lupin nodded in response, leaning forward in his chair. "When you refer to the previous, similar situation, you are referring to me, correct?"

"I am, Severus."

"I see," Severus said shortly, the twitching muscle in his jaw giving away the emotion that his uncharacteristically calm voice concealed. "Do you mean to tell me that _I _was being tracked for a time?"

"A very short time," Dumbledore immediately responded. His expression was firm, clearly stating that now was not the time to begin an argument over what was past. "We had several close calls with you, however," he informed Severus. "You are not an easy man to track."

"Of course not," Severus replied grudgingly, sitting back again. "That _is_ the reason I'm alive."

Dumbledore's gaze flickered to him, but he failed to respond to or acknowledge Severus' statement.

"How long do you plan to track Kinnaird?" asked Shackelbolt, interrupting the imminent silence.

"For now, the amount of time is indeterminable," Dumbledore responded. "My only objective is to be assured that he is trustworthy before I begin relying so much on the information he provides us with."

"Are you sure that he will be able to handle this?" asked Severus, a scathing note to his voice. "There is more to this sort of job than relaying messages back and forth. Does Kinnaird have the spine to stand up against Voldemort in such a way? Does he have the skill?"

"He can be trained," replied Dumbledore.

"Well, if I had known I could be so easily replaced, I would have quit some time ago," Severus remarked in a controlled but heated tone, rising from his seat.

"You are not being replaced—where are you going?"

"Back to Hogwarts, naturally," Severus told him, moving towards the door. "Where else would I go?"

"Severus—"

"I have lessons to prepare for, Albus, and the hour is growing late. Is there really anything left that needs to be accomplished that cannot be done without my presence?"

"Perhaps not, but—"

"I'd thought not," Severus interrupted. "Enjoy the rest of this meeting."

Before Dumbledore could get another word in, Severus had left through the door, closing it behind him with a snap of finality.

xxx

Throughout the course of the day on Friday, Harry did not once catch sight of his father. He kept his eyes peeled in the corridors, but there was no sign of him. He tried several times to make his way down to his office, but his time slots were never wide enough. He considered skipping his lunch, but Hermione reminded him of several pages of homework he had not yet completed which would be due later that day. Every time he developed a new plan, his obligations to school countered his determination.

So, Harry decided, he would have to find a new way to celebrate Severus' birthday. He finally let Ron have at the cake while they worked on their homework in the common room—though it had gone a bit stale by then—and he immediately began planning the dinner he would have Tibby prepare for them while they went to town this weekend.

Harry took the time between the end of classes and dinner to complete his homework for the weekend and pack what he would need to take with him to the house. He chose several items that he supposed could be left there, thinking it might be a good idea to start building up a small collection there so that he couldn't need to pack every time he wanted to visit with Severus. By the time Ron came up to remind him that it was time to go down the Great Hall, Harry was packed and ready for his departure at seven.

As he followed Ron to several empty seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry noticed that Severus had neglected to arrive for dinner. He felt slightly uneasy about this absence; had he been called away on some business and neglected to tell Harry? It was perhaps a silly conclusion to jump to, but Harry was in the habit of expecting disappointments.

"I'm sure he's just finishing some tasks that would otherwise be left unaccomplished before you leave," Hermione assured him upon his voicing this concern. Her words were accompanied by Ron's vigorous nodding, and Harry tried to look appeased.

"Perhaps I should just go check in with him," said Harry contemplatively.

"You need to eat," Hermione told him. "You already neglected lunch to complete homework; you can't miss another meal."

Sullenly, Harry agreed, but resolved to eat as quickly as possible and make his way down to the dungeons immediately after.

xxx

Apparently, Harry thought as he made his way down to the dungeons, concentrating on keeping his trunk hovering midair, he had underestimated his friends' ability to detain him. Not only had he been forced to sit through Dumbledore's warning to the student body that aurors would now be patrolling the castle, but it had taken him well over twenty minutes to convince his friends that one plate of food was enough and that no, he was not losing weight again. Well-placed as their concern was, he was finding it more and more annoying as the year went on.

Harry guided his trunk to a gentle landing, and approached Severus' door. He could see light through the space between the floor and the door; this was promising. He rapped quickly on the door and stood back. The immediate crash following was not promising. Neither were the heavy, rapidly approaching footsteps that came soon after.

Harry took another step back.

The door swung open violently, and Severus' voice immediately came in the same fashion. "Albus, I told you—"

Harry winced as Severus appeared in the doorway, and the dark man's eyes fell on him.

"Oh, it's only you," he said flatly.

Before Harry had a chance to respond, Severus had whipped around and headed back into his chambers. As he had left the door open, Harry assumed he was meant to follow.

"I'm assuming that trunk means you are ready to leave?" Severus asked, nodding towards the object at Harry's feet. Harry nodded cautiously, unsure of how to react to the man.

"My apologies for a rather abrupt greeting," Severus said, apparently aware of Harry's state of unease. "Albus has arrived at my door several times today; I'm becoming tired of his badgering. We should leave as soon as possible."

"Anything important?" Harry asked, watching as Severus shrank his trunk

"It's not at the moment, but may be in the future," Severus told him. "I assure you, I will make sure you are enlightened as soon as I am sure the news is noteworthy."

"I know," Harry responded; the hint of annoyance in Severus' voice told him he was tired of reassuring Harry that he would not be kept in the dark. Severus' eyes flickered to him, betraying a moment of mild disbelief, and then the expression was gone again. "I do trust you, you know," Harry told him a moment later.

"That is… rewarding to hear," Severus said restrainedly. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but the moment was gone mere seconds later as Severus straightened and announced his readiness to depart. Somehow feeling guilty for letting his opportunity to reveal his mounting levels of faith in his father to slip away, Harry regretfully nodded and followed him out the door.

Conversation was limited as they made their way through the castle; Severus seemed intent on winding through the halls as quickly as possible and reaching the doors before Dumbledore reached them. This determination only fed Harry's curiosity about what had transpired between the two, but he wasn't foolish enough to ask again. Instead, he merely followed until they reached the doors in the Great Hall, at which he finally questioned, "Why can't we just floo?"

"We are not going directly to the house," Severus answered him shortly, opening one of the heavy doors and waiting for Harry to step through.

"Oh? Where are we going?" asked Harry.

"I have a need to speak with Nymphadora Tonks," Severus answered him. "We will floo from her residence, but it would be unwise to connect to her location from Hogwarts."

Remembering the last time they had visited Tonks and recalling the use of the floo network, Harry frowned perplexedly. "But, why—"

"Circumstances have changed slightly," Severus told him shortly, his tone clipped and impatient. "It's best not to discuss such things here, however."

Harry fell quiet again, but could not help becoming slightly irritated by Severus' brush off. He felt he had a right to ask questions; he had a right to be informed. While on some level he knew that now was neither the time nor the place, he still wished for the satisfaction of having answers.

Trying to push away building feelings of resentment and reminding himself that Severus would most likely answer all of his questions later, Harry quietly followed his father to the gates. When they arrived there and had finally stepped outside of the Hogwarts grounds, Severus wordlessly gripped his arm and pulled him closer. There was little time to register what was about to happen; Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the shock of being compressed and tugged from the ground—

—with a loud _pop_, Harry and Severus reappeared in front of Tonks' modest, one levelled house. As his lungs expanded back to their normal size, he took in a relieving breath, and then moved to follow Severus, who was already on his way up to the door.

"Is she expecting us?" Harry asked as Severus knocked. He glanced around at the darkened windows, finding the general air of placidity surrounding the house suspicious, considering who normally dwelled in it.

Severus nodded curtly. "I sent word to her several hours ago."

"Then where—"

Before Harry could finish his sentence, two successive pops, not unlike those he and Severus had created moments earlier, sounded behind them.

"Oi, that was a trip," Tonks breathed as she braced herself with one arm against Kingsley, who was standing beside her with far more composure.

Harry glanced up at Severus, who had a deeply set frown on his face.

"Sorry, Professor," Tonks said as she moved forward, unsurprised by their presence. Though her tone would have sounded light to the casual observer, there was something heavier about her step and more sombre about her face than usual.

"Is everything in order?" asked Severus, stepping forward to meet Tonks.

Forehead crinkling, Tonks shrugged. "We should get inside," she said, looking around at the empty streets as though she were suspecting to catch sight of unwanted company. "Kingsley, you'll accompany us?"

"For a short while," he answered, following them inside. "There'll be a great deal of paperwork waiting for me when I arrive back at the ministry; I should begin working on it soon."

Within moments of stepping into her house, Tonks had lit several lamps in her sitting room; the room was dim, matching the stoic expressions of those within it. Harry looked at Severus, who nodded to his unasked question: he was allowed to stay.

"Sit," Tonks said in the same light but dampened tone she had used before; it was not a command as Severus would have given, nor a request, as Dumbledore would have done in such a situation. Harry and Severus took their places in two adjacent purple chairs with low backs, obviously meant to complement the royal purple swirls in the orange area rug covering a majority of the floor. Tonks and Kingsley sat opposite, both on either end of a rather squishy looking orange couch. The colour scheme of the room would have been outrageous in any other home, Harry thought on a whim, but here, he quite liked it.

Tonks took a long breath before speaking. "Someone stole all of Kinnaird's papers tonight—at the ministry."

"What do you mean?" Severus questioned immediately.

"I mean that every one of his records—his list of misdemeanours, his schooling records, his medical records—the very papers that prove he even exists: they're all gone."

"How could anyone have possibly taken all of those?" Harry questioned, paying little attention to the fact that he knew nothing of whom they spoke.

"Well, certainly," said Kingsley, "there are back-up papers in various departments of the ministry, as well as the places from which the records came. It was an elementary attempt at best, but the bothersome part is that anyone would even dare to try such a thing."

"But the question is: who would need to erase Kinnaird?" Tonks asked. Her question seemed rhetorical, however; she was speaking more to herself than to anyone else.

"Exactly," Kingsley said in a low voice.

"We're unsure which side would even—"

"You do realise, in all likelihood," Severus interrupted, annoyance evident in his voice, "that the chances of someone attempting to erase another individual are… unlikely at best. Anyone with the skill to accomplish such a theft would probably be gifted with the intelligence to realize that such a feat is nearly impossible."

"So who would want to learn so much about him, then?"

"Someone who wished to emulate him," Severus answered simply. "Do you forget the ordeal with Alastor Moody two years ago?"

"Would Voldemort really try the same trick twice?" Tonks asked. "Especially when it failed the first time?"

"The Dark Lo—Voldemort—is more arrogant than you realise. Also, you should be prepared for the fact that someone could be working independently on such a project."

Tonks and Kingsley both nodded, almost simultaneously, and the room fell quiet again. "We'll need to tell Dumbledore immediately, of course," Tonks said after a moment, to which Kingsley gave a consenting murmur.

"Yes," Severus agreed stiffly. Harry gave him a questioning look, but he merely shook his head once, and that again put an end to Harry's thoughts of asking what had happened. "But Nymphadora, Kingsley—I would advise you not to rely simply on the word of the Headmaster and Remus Lupin. You are both skilled aurors, and more than capable of doing your own investigating, as well as making your own decisions."

"What do you mean, Severus?" asked Kingsley, and Tonks nodded beside him, urging Severus to elaborate.

"I mean," Severus said with a reserved air of bitterness, "that the Headmaster has a bad habit of withholding important information when it serves him best. I worry that he will show poor judgment when considering Kinnaird for this position; he is in such need of a spy that I feel he may… overlook… incongruencies in Kinnaird's behaviours and actions, which would otherwise point to his lack of dependability."

"And Lupin?"

"Is too close to Dumbledore to disagree with him."

Tonks' face was, for the first time Harry could really remember, completely stricken as she asked, "Has he shown many errors in judgment before, concerning withholding important information?"

Severus' eyes just barely flickered to Harry, and he answered, "Yes; he certainly has."

**xxx End Chapter 42 xxx **

**AN:** Yeah, I'm really not going to try and justify the amount of time it took me to update. I doubt any excuses I have make up for the fact. I'm just going to say I am immensely grateful to everyone who still sticks with me through my gross periods of writing block and real life absorption. You really are all wonderful.

Thank you to my betas, as always, **Rlmess, Lucie, Allison Carroll**, and my muse, naturally, **lilsnape**.

Thank you so much to **Ombeline** for being reviewer number 1250 and to **BrightFeather **for being reviewer 1200!

Reviews are most certainly appreciated!


	43. Suspect

Chapter 43

Suspect

xxx

Something was very, very wrong with this picture, at least from Severus Snape's point of view. He was lying on his back, surrounded by vagrant pillows and fluffy mounds of blankets twisted with their complementary sheets. One of his legs had found its way off the edge of the bed and was dangling precariously, supported only by the swaddling layers of thin white fabric from which his bare foot protruded, exposed to the chilly morning air. The slightly ajar window was permitting the melodious sound of the wintering birds' songs to drift into the room; through the gaps between the leaves of drapery, sunlight was streaming through, falling elegantly across Severus' face and highlighting his rather large, rather misshapen nose.

This was not how Severus Snape did mornings.

Kicking the blankets off in a huff of frustration, Severus immediately rose from his bed and lifted his dressing gown off its hook. He threw it over his shoulders and moved to the window, which he snapped shut, cutting off the offending noise that the birds were making. With more zeal than necessary, he readjusted his robe and pulled the ties together, fastening them with precision. Summoning the hair band he normally kept in his working robes, he pulled his hair back, away from his face, only because he knew that it was likely to be sticking up in every direction. Glaring balefully at the mirror as he strode past it, he dared it to comment on his appearance. No sound issued from it, though it let out an unheard huff of frustration as Severus flung the door open forcefully enough that it swung on its hinges and rebounded off of the dresser, rattling the surface atop which the mirror was propped.

Severus' first thought was to ponder what his well intending but often errant child was doing that he hadn't considered rousing his father from his semi-unconscious state. He was either too distracted to notice that Severus had gone uncharacteristically comatose or he was ignoring the fact on purpose. Severus didn't like the odds of either.

Of course, Severus reconsidered as he paused mid-angry-stride in the wide hallway, it was also possible that Harry had given himself over to teenage inclinations and had also overslept. Scratching the back of his neck unconsciously, he realized that this was the more likely explanation. He quickly changed directions and headed for his son's room.

Upon finding Harry's room empty, however, Severus' indignation quickly returned. So the boy was awake. Awake and apparently unconcerned that he had seen neither hide nor tail of the normally early rising man he lived with. Moving quickly towards and down the staircase, Severus redirected his goals towards the kitchen. Surely, if the boy was not having a lie in, the kitchen would be the most likely place to find him. If sleep was not calling, food certainly was.

However, the kitchen too was empty, and Severus found himself perplexed and dully suspicious. He considered whether the boy was foolish enough to leave the house; he wanted to believe that he wouldn't be quite that stupid… but then, he had been awfully inquisitive as of late, and when curiosity struck Harry, disaster tended to strike everyone around him.

Trying to dismiss this fear as an irrational one, Severus quickly summoned Tibby. He'd be damned if he went on a wild goose chase through his own house; he had a house elf for a reason.

A split second later, Tibby instantly appeared, gazing up at her master with watery eyes and nervously kicking at the ground. Severus rolled his eyes in annoyance, but did not comment on her anxious state.

"Master calls for Tibby, sir?"

"Yes," Severus answered tersely. "Do you know of my son's whereabouts?"

"He is being in the library, sir," Tibby answered dutifully, though she looked surprised by the question.

"The library?" Severus asked with an expression of doubt, frowning and lifting his upper lip. "Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Tibby.

"That is all, Tibby, you may go."

Tibby curtseyed before disappearing again, but Severus did not notice. He had already turned and made straight for the library, pondering what on earth Harry would be doing in there first thing in the morning.

"Harry?" Severus said tentatively as he opened the door, though he needn't have called. Harry was sitting at his desk, poring over the great tome Severus had given him only days earlier. Caught in the midst of jotting what appeared to be an important note, he absently murmured his hello without looking up. Severus stood patiently in the doorway until Harry turned his full attention to him, a grin lighting up his features as he took in Severus' ruffled 'just out of bed' appearance.

"You slept in?" Harry noted in way of question, grinning even wider when Severus scowled and gave him a peremptory nod, unwilling to discuss this lapse in character. "You must be getting more comfortable here," Harry commented offhandedly, redirecting his attention to his notes.

"Yes, astute of you to notice my absence," Severus sneered grumpily, but Harry seemed to take his response as benign, shaking his head and returning to his book.

Severus was glad when Harry broke eye contact; his observation had caused him distinct discomfort. It was the sort of presumptuous comment he would expect from Dumbledore, maybe, or even McGonagall on one of her more docile days, but from his son, it was a reflection that seemed a little too close for comfort. He did realise, of course, that as they got closer, it was only inevitable that Harry would begin to evaluate his actions and the reasons behind them with as much accuracy as Severus could predict his son's behaviour. Nevertheless, it was a discomfiting notion.

"Are you finding the book useful?" Severus asked after a moment, as Harry stilled his quill once again.

Harry nodded mutely, and then replied a second later, "I never would have understood how it fit into our situation if you hadn't described it so specifically before."

Blast the boy to hell. Severus' expression softened against his will at the subtle praise, and he resisted the urge to growl as he felt some of his tension leaving him. His own response to Harry's unnaturally good disposition made him feel as though he was being pacified intentionally, which both irritated and pleased him at the same time.

"Naturally," Severus replied, amending when Harry glared at him, "though that is due to no fault of your own. It's a complicated text; one needs a refined knowledge of Potions to apply it to real circumstances."

"There are ingredients listed in here that you didn't mention before," Harry commented.

"There are," Severus agreed, nodding. "Some are just basics of any such potion; some are included for stasis, and some are completely irrelevant and won't be used at all."

"Won't that… I don't know, won't that mess it up?" Harry ruffled his hair thoughtfully before continuing. "I may not be at the top of our class, but I've always had the common sense to at least follow directions… when I read them correctly, that is."

Quirking an eyebrow, Severus asked coldly, "Are you accusing me of having no common sense?"

"No, that's not how I meant it," said Harry defensively, frowning. "I was just hoping you would explain."

Severus nodded, and stepped into the library. Out of habit rather than necessity, he closed the door behind him, and with a flick of his wand, moved one of the chairs over to the side of Harry's desk, where he sat down and pulled the book closer.

"Take this, for instance," Severus said, pointing to a spot on the page. Squinting, Harry looked to where he was pointing, and Severus asked, "What is the purpose of this herb in your most basic potions?"

"It normally prevents the potion from overheating," Harry replied easily, remembering an essay they'd written on inhibitors only a few weeks before the Holidays.

"Correct," Severus responded, a note of approval in his voice. "But, look at this direction here; read it to me."

"Heat should only be used as a catalyst when the effects of the potion are to be limited to a specific time frame, in which case the amount of time required for brewing will be shortened. Exposure to heat over long periods of time will cause the stasis ingredients to break down, and will therefore have catastrophic effects on the potion as a whole. See page 229 for further instruction on catalytic enhancements—"

"You needn't read that far," Severus said amusedly, causing Harry to stop abruptly. "But do you see why an herb used for the purpose of controlling heat would be useless in this case?"

"We can't heat the potion because we need to brew it over a long period of time, to…"

"To enhance the efficacy of the potion," Severus finished for him, nodding.

"That makes sense," Harry agreed. "You know, if you taught like this all the time—"

"It might be unwise to finish that statement," Severus told him warningly, rising from his seat. "When you have finished in here, would you like to accompany me into the local market? I've a number of things to purchase before completing my work area upstairs."

Self-consciously running a hand over his mop of hair, Harry nodded, but said, "I'll just need to shower first. Can we go after that?"

Severus wanted to comment on the amount of time this would be wasting, but then he considered his late lie in, and realized it wasn't such an extreme request. He nodded his assent and turned to leave, contemplating his own need for a boost in personal hygiene.

xxx

It was a particularly calm day in terms of the weather. There was a definite chill to the January air, but the wind stood still and the sun was blindingly bright for a winter afternoon. Harry stood at the beginning of the path leading towards the end of the property line, waiting patiently for Severus to join him. He felt somewhat foolish, having donned the same Gryffindor themed winter wear he had begun using in his first year at Hogwarts, but he doubted anyone else would mind it as much as he did.

"I would have happily obliged your need for new winter apparel had you mentioned it. There's no need to insult my vision to make your point."

Except, perhaps, his very Slytherin father.

Harry turned to glare at Severus, who had just emerged from the house, tugging on his gloves and smirking at his own quip.

"There's no need to mock me," Harry informed him, starting down the path, to which Severus gave a low chuckle.

"It's only in the name of healthy house rivalry that I do," Severus told him as he matched Harry's stride.

Harry rolled his eyes, but with less annoyance than with force of habit. "So, where are we headed?"

"Is it necessary for you to ask the same question several times in one day?"

"I know we're going to get supplies for finishing the work room, but I mean, I've never heard of any place other than Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade—"

Severus lifted an eyebrow, amusement creasing the pale skin around his eyes. "Surely you don't believe that the every Wizard in all of Great Britain must travel to either Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade in order to obtain the necessary materials for day to day life."

Harry shrugged. "I hadn't thought of it until now."

"You'll see once we arrive. Now, grasp my arm."

Harry did as he was told. In one quick and uncomfortable moment, the familiarity of Severus' grounds dissolved; when he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the back of an alleyway. He tottered a bit and extended his arms in a lame effort to regain his balance, and locating his father already at the street ahead of them, he dashed quickly to the older man's side.

"Are you quite alright?" Severus inquired in a way that was neither genuine nor curious.

Harry scowled.

"Fine," he muttered.

Stepping out onto the cobbled street after his father, Harry glanced at his surroundings. They were in what appeared to be a small market; there were shops lined up one after another, and outside of them, small stands, most of which were abandoned due to cold weather, but a smattering of them occupied by middle aged, shabbily dressed witches who seemed to be holding out on the hope that customers would turn up despite the bitter nature of the air.

"I thought the markets in the area were all run by muggles."

"All the known ones are," replied Severus. "You cannot reach this market by foot; you must enter it magically—there is no other way to gain access."

Harry murmured his understanding, but Severus wasn't paying attention. He had already located his first destination, and was instructing Harry to follow him inside.

There was little light within the shop; it wasn't gloomy or ill-kept, but it was dim and plain. A strong looking wizard with short, medium brown hair and heavy eyebrows emerged from the back room, wiping his hands on a towel and grinning in anticipation of a sale.

"Hullo there," said the man in a voice higher than what Harry would have expected. "What can I do fer ya today?"

Severus explained to him that he was constructing an area in which he could work with volatile spells and potions, and that he would need the countertops he had constructed from wood reinforced accordingly with magic resistant stone.

"O' course, o' course," said the man, nodding and pulling a book from underneath the counter. "Per'aps ye would care ter choose a sample."

"I could really care less about the way the room looks, so long as it serves its purpose," Severus responded. Harry was impressed with the cordiality of his tone.

The shopkeeper gruffly nodded his assent, and, giving noticeable attention to Severus' attire, said, "Certainly makes meh job easier. Will basic black do?"

"That will be fine," Severus agreed.

After giving his information and choosing a date to pick up the supplies for the room, Severus and Harry left the shop almost as quickly as they had come. The rest of their day continued like this; every shop they entered, Severus quickly manoeuvred his way in and out, and come high afternoon, they had made all their trips to the stores within the market. Harry was beginning to wonder why Severus had brought him along; Harry was certainly of no assistance, and he'd barely been spoken to all day. His father seemed intent on completing the task at hand (of course, nothing less could be expected of Severus Snape, for if nothing else, he was efficient) and had rushed Harry through every shop, seemingly annoyed when Harry proved reluctant to move so quickly from place to place. Just as they exited their last destination, however, Severus turned a smile of satisfaction toward his son, and seeing Harry's irritable expression, suggested conciliatorily, "Lunch?"

"It's nearly four o' clock," Harry pointed out unnecessarily, following Severus, who was already on his way to the pub, down the street.

"Indeed," said Severus, his back still to Harry.

Frustrated by Severus' lack of cooperation, Harry looked around, searching for some way to stall his father. He didn't want him eating yet; he had asked Tibby this morning to have a nice dinner prepared as a way of celebration for his father's birthday, and had quoted the time of their arrival between five and six. He had to burn at least an hour, and he had to keep Severus from ruining his appetite.

Not for the first time, Harry found himself inordinately aggravated with his father's keen sense; he knew that whatever attempts he made at stalling, the man would pick up on his plan right away. Harry didn't consider himself a master of cunning, but he privately thought that if it weren't Severus he was dealing with, it would well within his capabilities to pull this off without even the tiniest hiccup in his plan. As it stood, however, he was seriously doubting himself.

"I'm not really even hungry," Harry said as he trailed after Severus, walking several paces behind as the man refused to slow down.

"No?" Severus asked, stopping and turning to face Harry. "Well, perhaps just a few drinks then, before we return."

"Yes," Harry quickly agreed, at once pleased that his father was playing directly into his plans. "Yes, drinks would be good."

Severus gave him an odd look, clearly noticing Harry's unusual behaviour but not knowing exactly to what it could be attributed. After momentarily considering the boy, who had plastered a convincing look of innocence on his face, Severus seemed to decide that whatever Harry was up to was relatively harmless.

Harry quickly joined Severus at his side, and saying nothing more, the two set off together towards the pub that looked to be in desperate need of business.

xxx

It was somewhere around five-thirty when Harry and Severus finally returned home. The aroma of freshly cooked food greeted them as soon as they stepped in the door, and Severus at once aimed a suspicious look in Harry's direction. Harry pretended not to notice.

"Let me get your cloak," Harry offered, to which Severus narrowed his eyes even further, though he did hand over the heavy black robe. He paused in the doorway as Harry disappeared into the coatroom, seemingly aware that he was to follow his son's lead. "Erm..." Harry muttered as he re-emerged, knowing instantly by the look on his father's face that he had a sense of what was going on. Not knowing what to say, he settled on a beckoning hand gesture as he turned and headed towards the kitchen. Sighing mildly at his son's lack of eloquence, Severus shook his head and followed.

The table, they found as they entered the kitchen, was set with elegant china that Harry hadn't known they owned, with a variety of rich dishes arranged across the tabletop. Tibby was nowhere to be seen, but Harry supposed she must have only just finished setting out their dinner as steam was still rising from each plate of food. Small dinner salads were set in front of each of their respective places, and next to them, full glasses of deep red wine. The look of suspicion on Severus' face had been replaced by a softer one of combined astonishment and sentimentality, if such a thing was possible on such harsh features.

"And what is all this?" Severus asked with a certain amount of gentleness to his voice, waving a hand at the scene before them.

"Ah... Happy Birthday," Harry said somewhat feebly, flushing against his will.

"You're a few days late," Severus said, though half of his mouth was quirked up into a smile of appreciation.

"I know," Harry sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I did try to come down on Thursday, but you were at an Order meeting."

Severus quirked his eyebrow, as if to ask how he could know such a thing, and Harry explained, "McGonagall told me."

The other eyebrow raised, and huffing slightly, Harry added, "She caught me in your rooms."

The two lifted eyebrows drew together in a tight frown, and Harry hit his own forehead in frustration, saying, "I baked you a cake, so I wanted to bring it to you."

There was a pause, and then, "You baked me a cake?"

"Yes."

Taking another moment of silence, Severus contemplated what exactly he was supposed to say to that. Finally, he settled on asking, "What happened to the cake?"

"Well, erm...we ate it. Well...mostly Ron ate it... The point is that it was eaten."

"I see." It was all Severus said before moving to the table and taking his seat. Scratching his head and looking slightly confused, Harry followed suit.

"Are you angry?" Harry asked as he sat down across from his father, to which Severus immediately shook his head.

"Quite the contrary, Harry," said Severus, his eyes flickering briefly to the boy across the table. There was far more warmth in his voice than Harry was accustomed to, and he flushed all over again. Giving Harry an uncharacteristically sincere smile, Severus added, "Thank you. This is quite nice."

"Oh," Harry said, averting his eyes. "Well, good. I mean, you're welcome."

Chuckling, Severus said, "Of course."

Far more affable than Harry had seen him in quite some time, Harry thought with a hint of pride that he had done quite well. As far as his Father was concerned, he seemed to dislike overdone displays of affection or grandeur, and so a pleasant dinner between the two of them was all the recognition of his birthday he needed to feel appreciated.

"Purely out of curiosity," said Severus several moments later, pausing to take a sip of wine, "how exactly did you go about making a cake?"

"Hermione helped me," Harry admitted. "We used the Room of Requirement."

"Interesting."

Harry frowned and set down his fork. "What do you mean 'interesting'?"

Severus lifted his eyebrows at Harry's defensiveness. "I had simply never thought of using the Room of Requirement to bake... seems it would be simpler to ask the house-elves for one."

"Well... I wanted to make it personally."

Severus considered the boy across from him for a moment before answering. He was struck again by Harry's proclivity towards acting from the heart; it seemed strange to him, after all that the boy had been through in his life, that he could be endowed with such a natural tendency to care for the people around him. While Severus, when faced with the trials and tribulations of a rough childhood, had become more withdrawn and emotionally distant, Harry seemed to have developed a stronger sense of sentiment and loyalty towards those who treated him well. It seemed a strange reaction to rough circumstances, but one that he was not entirely adverse to. In fact, as time wore on, Severus found himself more and more fond of the boy for this very reason. Harry had offered him forgiveness on a silver platter, without Severus ever having deserved it. It occurred to him that while he had softened considerably towards the boy, he had done a poor job of expressing to Harry what a positive effect he had on Severus' life.

Clearing his throat, and suddenly finding himself grasping for his normal eloquence, he said, "That was very..." He paused, not knowing exactly what to say. Pressing his knuckles to his lips and thinking it over, he began again, "You are..." He paused again. Harry sat across from him, looking distinctly uncomfortable and expectant all at the same time. Severus closed his eyes, and keeping them closed, he said quietly, "You matter very much to me Harry. I hope you know that."

"I do."

Harry's voice was almost a whisper, and when Severus opened his eyes again, he saw that the boy was smiling at him.

"I'm glad it's you," said Harry.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm glad you're my father," Harry repeated, his voice stronger this time. Severus folded his hands in his lap and gave him a slow nod, not knowing exactly what to say. "When this all began...I didn't know how it could possibly work. We hated each other... I mean, we really did. But I'm glad we gave it a shot, because I think... Well, all in all, we've done a pretty good job. I mean, we've hit a lot of rough patches, but that's to be expected, don't you think?"

Severus nodded, and Harry continued, apparently having reached his stride and not wanting to slow down. "No one has ever really been there for me like you have been these last five or so months... I mean, I know Dumbledore cares about me, but he won't tell me the truth about anything and he's certainly never spent as much time as you have making sure that I'm...that everything is okay. And Sirius...well, he was great, but I think he saw me more as another version of James than as...well, as a son. But not you. You don't see me as a friend or as a stray of sorts who needs to be taken in. You treat me like a son. Even if you are a little hard on me sometimes."

"Your Mother would have been so proud of you," Severus said, shaking his head. "Though... I like to think she already knows what sort of a man you've become. I feel justified in saying she is just as proud as I am."

"You're proud of me?" asked Harry, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Don't be thick," Severus said gruffly, returning his eyes to his meal. "Of course I am."

Though Severus had looked away, Harry continued to stare across the table at him. It wasn't that he hadn't known his father was proud of him. It wasn't that he hadn't realized the man cared for him. It was somewhat startling, however, to hear these things said aloud by someone normally so reserved; Harry simply hadn't expected it. Yet, though the whole conversation had caused Harry a certain amount of discomfiture, it had been a comforting and rewarding one nevertheless.

Seemingly aware of Harry's eyes on him, Severus raised his own to meet his son's gaze. After a brief moment, both looked away again; as they did, it occurred to Harry that something had passed between them that could somehow change the nature of their shaky relationship.

xxx

A tall and hulking figure moved swiftly up the gravel pathway toward Severus Snape's house. His hood was drawn over his face, as if to conceal his identity, but the dark of the night would have just as easily obscured his features. It was late; later than most would have dared to be seen outside in such a day and age, but the confidence of his stride suggested that he saw no danger in such a thing.

The man continued up the pathway, unencumbered by the many rocks smattered across the sloping ground. He purposefully drew his wand as he approached the front door, throwing back his hood to reveal a cleanly shaven head that gleamed in the moonlight.

As if on cue, the door of the house swung open and a stream of light issued from inside, illuminating the cloaked figure. The man stopped in his tracks and waited, wand at the ready. Another figure stepped outside, the light casting an eerie silhouette of all billowing robes and long hair blowing in the midnight wind, and he drew his wand as well.

A silvery jet of light issued first from Snape's wand, shortly followed by the man in front of him. Neither spoke as the beams of light took shape, forming a lynx and a fox in between the two men. The two patronuses circled each other once before each man abruptly ended his spell.

"Kingsley," said Snape, nodding curtly in the man's direction and closing the door behind him.

"Snape," came Shacklebolt's deep voice. Snape moved to his side, and the two men began to walk.

"I trust Harry is safe staying here alone?"

"The house is heavily warded," said Snape, with an air of defence. "And as you well know, Tonks is ready to come to Harry's aid should he need it."

"The advantage of having an Auror only a town away," commented Shacklebolt.

"Harry doesn't know that she's been stationed there as a precautionary measure," said Snape.

"I imagine the boy would resent it," replied Kingsley.

Snape nodded and continued walking, checking over his shoulder to see that Harry's window was darkened. "As he would resent knowing how many Order members we have surrounding the area. He can't know, Kingsley."

"I thought you were adamant about Harry being let in on more information?"

"Of course. But where Harry's guilt complex is concerned, I have no doubts that there are some things best left unsaid. He would despise knowing that others were putting themselves in danger for his sake."

"Did he know you were planning on leaving tonight?"

"No," answered Snape. "The House Elf will let him know should he awaken and look for me, but I doubt he will. He's not a child; he can take care of himself for a night."

"I have no doubt of that."

The two continued to walk to the end of the property in comfortable silence. As they reached the end of the path and approached the open gate, both men stopped, and Shacklebolt turned to Snape, pulling a flask from his robes and handing it to him.

"I told you this was unnecessary," said Snape, though he accepted the flask.

"You know you can't be seen," said Kingsley firmly. "I procured the hair from one of my trainees, so if you are sighted it will simply look as though I am taking you along on a patrol."

"Name?"

"Charlston Leiry, born Charlston Baier, graduate of Durmstrang. We run the risk of recognition, but considering the boy's family background, we are putting him in little more danger than he already faces. His situation is more desirable than yours, at any cost."

Snape raised his eyebrows in question, and Shacklebolt elaborated, "Wizard born, muggle raised from the age of twelve. His parents are both in Azkaban for the murders of muggleborns across Germany; he publicly denounced them at the start of his Auror training, when his loyalties were called into question."

"Ah," was all Snape said, uncapping the flask and sniffing the offensive potion. "Did you brew this?"

"It's safe, Snape, I tested it myself."

Though he still looked sceptical, Snape could apparently find no other reason not to take the potion. He lifted it to his lips and drank unflinchingly, withdrawing a moment later and giving a small shudder as the transformation began. Shacklebolt tactfully turned from him as his limbs shortened and increased in thickness, his formerly black hair lengthened, curled, and became a dark shade of blonde, his nose straightened and widened, and his eyes lightened from the deepest chocolate to the palest amber.

The change complete, Snape looked down to inspect his new body. He was shorter than before, but sturdier as well. He tied back the thick mess of blonde waves whipping around in his face and grunted as he adjusted his now misfitting clothes, repairing the button that had popped off the top of his pants during the transformation.

"I hadn't realized you were so thin," Shacklebolt commented offhandedly as he turned around and observed, causing Snape to scowl deeply.

The two passed through the open gateway, and Snape paused to close and lock it behind them.

"Grasp my arm," Shacklebolt immediately commanded, and somewhat reluctantly, Snape reached over and did so. Shacklebolt turned on the spot and the two Disapparated.

The two reappeared in the middle of a busy street on which several pubs were located. Witches and Wizards hovered outside the entrances waiting to be admitted, some dressed casually and some garbed in more revealing and attention-grabbing styles. Snape wrinkled his nose in distaste as several young Witches walked by and giggled in their direction; Shacklebolt remained neutral, surveying the area.

"He's here?" asked Snape quietly to Shacklebolt, who nodded his head.

"Lupin is waiting for us inside," he said, leading the way to a dark pub at the very end of the street, the only one of the four in the area that didn't seem to be drawing such a crowd. Shacklebolt nodded to the large Wizard positioned at the entrance, and the man stood aside, allowing the two to walk through.

Once inside, Snape expertly observed his surroundings, taking in every detail. Most of the pub's customers were old in age; the music that was playing was approximately ten years outdated, but the crowd that had gathered seemed to be enjoying it. The bartender was a grimy looking man, looking to be about sixty, and was ignoring his patrons at the end of the counter in favour of chatting with two attractive witches who appeared to be flirting their way out of sobriety.

As Snape continued his surveillance, his eyes fell on a crowd of people located closer to the back of the pub, near the restrooms. They looked distinctly out of place, all dressed in black robes and huddled close together, talking quietly amongst themselves. It didn't help that they were all considerably younger than the rest of those gathered in the pub. Sneering at their lack of subtlety, Snape turned to Kingsley.

"I assume our friend is among that group?"

Shacklebolt nodded, but said, "But we must leave them be for now; let's join Lupin over there."

Snape privately thought that he didn't quite need lessons in subtlety, but he didn't say so. Instead, he followed Kingsley over to Lupin, who was sitting alone at the end of the counter.

"No signs that they plan to leave soon?" Shacklebolt asked Lupin as they sat on either side of him.

"Not quite, but they're on their third round of mead, so I assume we haven't much longer to wait."

The plan was to wait them out; it was a popular crowd for older people, and so Snape, Kingsley, and Lupin blended in nicely amongst the other patrons. Their backs were to the group, and young and naive as they were (even for aspiring Death Eaters) they had not taken notice of the fact that two Aurors and a known member of the Order of the Phoenix had conveniently arrived on the same night on which they were gathering. It also served them well that Aurors frequently patrolled this street, and normally ended their nights here.

Contrary to Lupin's assumption, it was late when the group began to gradually disband. Snape noted the faces of the members as they left, recognizing with a pang of regret several students that had graduated from his house only a few years ago. It wasn't until most of the circle had disappeared that he was able to sneak a glance at Kinnaird's face.

The boy hadn't changed much since Snape had last seen him. He wasn't astonishingly good looking or impressive in figure, but neither was he completely unattractive. He had sandy brown hair that he now kept short on the sides but with enough length on top that he was constantly tossing his head in an effort to get it out of his brown eyes, which sat under dark, thick eyebrows. He had a boyish face, with a rounded nose and cheeks that gave the impression of constant merriment for all their pink coloration. He had grown thick facial hair in the form of a well trimmed beard that lined his jaw and surrounded his mouth; it was the only thing that made him look any different from the sixth years Snape taught on a daily basis.

The man's face was set in a deep frown as he spoke with the two men who remained at their table. His manner was far more reserved than Snape recalled, and there was a certain dark quality to his gaze as it settled suspiciously on the man sitting directly across from him. Apparently, whatever the other man was saying, Kinnaird did not appreciate it.

"It's nearly time," said Lupin from his right, drawing Snape's attention away from his former student. "Three left...he'll be leaving soon."

"That sounds familiar," growled Snape irritably, thinking he'd had rather enough of the pub scene. Lupin, however, ignored his comment, addressing Shacklebolt as he rose from his seat.

"I will alert you when he's on his way."

"Attempt to delay the others, if possible," said Shacklebolt, to which Lupin nodded.

Taking their leave of Lupin, the two men passed unnoticed through the pub. The street that had seemed so busy upon their arrival was now relatively empty but for a few stragglers; silently, Shacklebolt led Snape to a shallow alleyway from which they could watch for Kinnaird. As they settled into position, Shacklebolt extended the flask of Polyjuice to Snape. Snape, however, had no intention of remaining in his current form, and refused it with a certain shake of his head.

"Have you forgotten the price on your head?" chided Shacklebolt, offering the flask with more insistence.

"It is of no consequence," muttered Snape distractedly, half focused on his slowly lengthening limbs and simultaneously examining several men who were exiting the pub, stumbling slightly in their drunken stupor. After a moment of scrutiny he dismissed them as mere drunks and returned his gaze to Shacklebolt. "If Lupin is not successful in delaying the others, you may apprehend them, and I will be free to pursue Kinnaird unhindered. I'm certain he's not fool enough to make an attempt on my life, much less deliver me to the Dark Lord."

"We have no proof of his loyalty-"

"Precisely," hissed Snape as he gave an involuntary shudder of pain, irritation prominent on his slowly transforming features. He tapped his wand to his clothes in order to give his body room to grow upward and shrink inward, and barred his teeth as he continued to speak. "Let us not forget what a precarious position he finds himself in. Even if he were skilled enough to defeat me, it would certainly be unwise given the importance of convincing Albus of his loyalty. The importance of a spy far outweighs the bloodshed of a traitor."

On this point Shacklebolt seemed to acquiesce, for he withdrew the flask and tucked it back into his robes. It was not long before Snape's silent suffering came to an end and he was returned to his usual state; it was not necessarily an improvement, but it was normalcy, something Snape was glad for. Adjusting his robes around him, he glanced sideways at Shacklebolt, who was intently watching the fake galleon in his dark palm, waiting attentively for Lupin's signal.

"Ridiculous," muttered Snape under his breath as he leaned against the alley wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even in his early days as a Death Eater, he had never seen the need to stay late into the night in low class pubs on popular streets; it was not only distasteful, but it was also tedious, and unwise above all. These were the glaring errors of novices: meeting in crowded, well-known places which Aurors regularly patrolled, closing out the pub rather than leaving as soon as they began to drain, making their presence even more noticeable. These were the small things that told Severus that they were certainly not dealing with the more notable members of the inner circle. These were the new recruits, boys who wished to become men, who sought camaraderie above discretion and success.

"It's Lupin—" Shacklebolt said in a low voice, distracting Severus from his thoughts just as he caught peripheral sight of Shacklebolt reflexively tightening his grip on the galleon. Before Severus could respond or Shacklebolt could continue, however, a hoarse shout from across the street caught the attention of both men. They turned to look just in time to catch sight of one of Kinnaird's companions making a hasty exit from the bar as the pub owner emerged with the other caught by the hood of his robes. The owner was a rather burly Wizard, formidable in expression and apparently rather accomplished with a wand, as he'd managed to gain possession of both of theirs.

"Trying to get away without paying your tab, eh?" rasped the man as he roughly shoved his captive into the street. "We'll just see what the Aurors have to say about this, eh lads?"

It was as the two young men locked eyes with each other that both Shacklebolt and Snape sensed the situation taking a darker turn.

"Go," commanded Snape quietly, stepping back into the shadows. "Detain them; I will intercept Kinnaird."

A silent nod signalled Shacklebolt's agreement with Severus' hastily contrived plan, and he was across the street before he could hear Snape's added remark about the stupidity of both the pub owner and the junior Death Eaters. Severus watched darkly from the distance, unable to interfere now that he had lost the protection of an alternate appearance.

As Kingsley apprehended the delinquent young men, Severus' eyes travelled to the alley on the side of the pub from where a dark figure stood watching quietly. As the pub owner became absorbed in vehemently explaining the details of the situation to Shacklebolt, the figure slipped out onto the street and made his way quickly in the opposite direction, unnoticed by the gathered group.

Severus had very little question in his mind as to the identity of the hooded man. Glancing around the street, he threw his hood up over his head so that it hung down to his eyes and tilted his head forward so that his hair hung in his face, obscuring all but his dark eyes and hooked nose. Abandoning his own hiding place, he set off in the direction which Kinnaird was headed, following at a distance and lingering close to the buildings as he stalked along, safe from the flood of light surrounding each enchanted lamppost. He remained on his side of the street until Kinnaird reached the next and crossed to his side, continuing past the corner which escaped Severus' line of vision. Hastily changing direction, Severus ducked down a side street and ran towards the direction in which Kinnaird was headed. He knew the area well, even if he hadn't frequented it as a young man. Kinnaird was heading deeper into the depths of the city, and Severus needed to stop him before he reached an area where he might easily stumble across allies.

Severus rounded a corner quickly, his robes swirling around him as he came to an abrupt halt. He took several steps toward the next street, wondering if Kinnaird had already passed. Lowering his hood and brushing his long hair out of his eyes, he waited quietly. A shadow interrupted the steady flow of light on the pavement, and Kinnaird's profile shortly followed; Severus, standing back several meters, remained unnoticed. Eyes narrowing at his target, Severus stepped out onto the street, his wand clutched tightly in his hand but hidden by the long sleeve of his robe. In front of him, Kinnaird halted abruptly, shoulders stiffening in anticipation.

"Rather interesting crowd you're consorting with these days, isn't it, Kinnaird?"

Severus watched him quell the reflexive twitch of his wand arm as he took in the voice of his pursuer, and then he glanced over his shoulder, apparently gauging Snape's intent. When Severus made no move against him, his stance relaxed marginally, and he slowly turned to face his former mentor. Now that he was closer to the boy, he saw the signs of growing older in his appearance; frown lines were beginning to form between his eyebrows, and though his facial hair hid it well, the hollows of his cheeks had become more defined. Severus swept his eyes over the boy's form, and saw now that he was standing that he had apparently lost weight over time. Eyes returning to his face, he noted the darkened circles under Kinnaird's eyes and noted the correlation between the two.

"I wondered if you'd make yourself known," Kinnaird said slowly, distracting Severus from his evaluation, and he could hear the deliberate taunt in his tone. He curled his lips at the boy's brashness.

"You knew I was following you?" he asked sceptically, unsure whether Kinnaird was simply attempting to preserve his pride at being tracked so easily or if his skills had simply been fine tuned over the years.

"I thought you might," Kinnaird responded carefully. "I noticed you in the pub."

Snape's eyebrows lifted in question, but he did not trust himself to speak. Instead, he trusted that Kinnaird would elaborate.

The boy did not disappoint. "I studied with you, Professor, for several years. I know your mannerisms. And furthermore, as I am to be your replacement…" Kinnaird paused here, seemingly repeating the words in his mind and questioning whether they were the right ones. After a moment, when Snape offered no reaction except to fold one arm elegantly over the other one, he continued, "I assumed you would make an appearance at some point. I've been waiting for you, Severus Snape."

xxx End Chapter 43 xxx

AN: I know. I'm bad. *Extends wrists for shameless slapping*

But on that note, show me some love ?

Review pretty please :)


	44. A Brand New Thorn

Chapter 44

A Brand New Thorn

xxx

"You want me to _agree._"

Albus Dumbledore peered over his spectacles at the dark haired man sitting in front of him whose expression was rife with scepticism and incredulousness. His eyebrows lifted as Severus thrust himself from his chair and resumed the pacing he'd been requested to cease only moments before.

"You are incredible, Albus," Severus muttered under his breath, barely audible. "You realize what you are asking of me? He cannot be trusted; I can assure you of this! To train him... to teach him the art of deceit... it's a suicide mission, Headmaster!"

"Simply allow me to remind you that he has requested your counsel," replied Dumbledore slowly, steepling his fingers under his chin. "To deny him such a request is to demonstrate doubt in him... which may either diminish his usefulness to Voldemort, or push Kinnaird towards loyalty to the wrong side. We must play our cards very carefully, Severus. Even if we are to remain wary of his true intentions, which, I might add, I believe to be quite noble, we must maintain the illusion that we've placed utter faith in him."

"Surely, Albus, there are other ways—"

"But none better," stated Dumbledore firmly. "No one is more difficult to convince than you, Severus. To this day, you remain the most obstinate, cynical, taciturn man I've had the pleasure of knowing—"

"Please, Albus, you should know by now that mere flattery carries little weight with me."

"— and to earn your trust speaks volumes about the person in question. I do not ask you to place complete faith in the boy. But you did know him once, and thought highly of him. Surely, he cannot be that far gone. He respects you, Severus, or he would not have asked for your help. Your confidence in him will draw him closer to our cause, and reinforce Voldemort's confidence in him. And as you know, the more confidence Voldemort holds in him, the more information he will be able to glean for us. Your cooperation is vital, Severus. You wish to do something worthy for the cause; this is your opportunity."

Stopping in front of the fireplace, Severus crossed his arms and watched the flames flickering across each other. "And if he asks me something that I can't answer?"

"You've been my spy for years," Albus said quietly, rising from his chair. "I have no doubt that you will handle any situation that arises with admirable finesse."

A snort escaped Severus, and he glanced darkly over his shoulder. "Yes, quite a convenient setup you've arranged here," he said quietly.

"It's not as simplistic as you see it," said Dumbledore gently, in the patronizing way that made Severus cringe.

"Oh, but to the contrary, Albus, I see quite clearly," responded Severus in an astoundingly placid tone of voice.

"Severus?"

The dark man did not respond for several moments; finally, he turned and crossed the room in several long strides, arriving in front of Dumbledore's desk. "You wish to kill several proverbial birds with one extraordinary stone. Harry will certainly feel bolstered by the idea of another person placing his father out of danger, while I will be distracted from attempts of chivalry with another pet project to consider, and Kinnaird will take the weight of this responsibility and turn into a replacement for me. Very clever, Albus. Very clever indeed."

"Is that the issue you take with this, then, Severus?" questioned Dumbledore, leaning back in his chair and gazing at Severus with an air of observance. "You are threatened by the idea that another man could fill your former position?

Severus' eyes flickered to the ground before he raised his head in order to meet Dumbledore's eyes once again.

"Threatened is rather strong," Severus admitted, gaze unwavering. "Doubtful would be my word of choice."

"You don't believe Kinnaird has the same ability," Dumbledore responded.

A dark chuckle erupted from Severus' throat, and he shook his head. "It's not ability I am concerned with, Albus; I could teach him what I know. It is his intent. His will. What is his incentive? There must be more than simple desire to turn from the dark... there must be a driving force. Something that takes precedent above all that a true spy must endure. I believe he lacks the real motivation, in short."

"And what of your motivation, Severus?"

Severus hesitated before he answered, carefully evaluating the Headmaster's closed expression. "I am unsure what you are asking me, sir," he responded at length, draping his arms over the sides of the chair and waiting patiently for Dumbledore's answer.

"What sort of motivation did you have when you came to me?"

"You know exactly my motivation—"

"Severus," said Dumbledore sharply, his airy expression suddenly becoming quite serious. "Do not waste our time by avoiding my question. All that I require is an answer."

"I..." Severus opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but as Dumbledore slid his half-mooned spectacles off of his crooked nose and stared at him with something akin to chastisement, he reluctantly answered. "What the Dark Lord did to Lily, and to others... it was unnecessary evil. I felt guilty for having taken part in it."

Dumbledore gave a singular nod. "And when you first came to me, all I required of you was that admission. On faith alone, I gave you the second chance that you most certainly had not earned at the time. Tell me, what would have become of you if I had not allowed you that chance?"

"I am... not entirely certain," replied Severus, dark eyes contemplative. "I may have continued on the path that I was on... or I might have been killed."

"Precisely the scenarios I have described for Kinnaird should you deny him the help he has sought."

Dumbledore's acute statement punctuated the train of Severus' thought, and his eyes moved immediately to the Headmaster's, realization reaching the surface of the dark depths. A tense silence descended upon the room as Dumbledore watched Severus intently, the latter staring into the flames of the hearth as he contemplated the situation before him.

"You are certain this is the only way for him to succeed?"

"From what intelligence I have gathered, Riddle is being much more careful since his discovery of your betrayal. His Death Eaters are under greater scrutiny and must adhere to even stricter standards than before. Kinnaird has risked his very life by daring to speak to either one of us; I do not believe he would do so if he were not very serious about turning from that side. I have already issued an invitation for him to teach at Hogwarts, and Voldemort is very suspicious of my purposes. Kinnaird will need your instruction if he is to succeed at pulling the proverbial wool over Voldemort's eyes when he is already convinced that someone will try to do so." Dumbledore paused, and when Severus did not respond, he added, "Also... I believe that if we are able to convince Voldemort that Kinnaird has the ability to get close to you, he will have added value. The focus will be placed on you rather than on suspicion of Kinnaird's intent."

Severus returned his gaze to the man in front of him and blinked several times before saying flatly, "So I am now the sacrificial lamb?"

"Don't be dramatic, Severus," replied Dumbledore, frowning. "You were perfectly willing to place yourself on the alter when you were my spy. This is hardly different."

Severus snorted and shook his head. "It's not the same, Albus, and you know it."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes and folded his hands in his lap, leaning back in his chair. Noticing the subtle change in his expression, Severus asked keenly, "Why are you looking at me like that, Albus?"

"I am merely wondering what has changed to bring about this reluctance," replied Dumbledore easily, though his nonchalance did little to fool Severus. He understood that Dumbledore rarely spoke without precise intent, no matter how serene he appeared.

"And your suspicion is?" asked Severus dryly, arching an eyebrow expectantly.

"You've become quite attached to Harry, haven't you Severus?"

"Oh, don't be absurd!" Severus snapped, unable to reign in a burst of annoyance before it escaped him. "Of course, Albus, I've come to view him as a father should his son. But quit this blasted analysis and _listen_ to what I am saying to you. I do not trust Kinnaird and I do not wish to place my life, my position, and my son on the line in order to aid him in whatever his intentions may be! I require some more solid proof!"

"I have told you, I believe him to be—"

"Your judgment is _not_ unerring!"

"Thank you, Severus, for that astute assessment." The response came in clipped tones and filled the short silence that had elapsed, sounding almost foreign to the atmosphere.

A long sigh escaped Severus as he moved a pale hand over the length of his face, leaning back in his chair. "I do not wish to fight with you, Albus," he intoned wearily, turning his head so that his dark hair obscured most of his expression.

"Nor I with you," responded Dumbledore. He did not elaborate, and the two sat in silence for some while, Severus with his gaze trained on the shadows dancing upon the floor in front of the hearth, Dumbledore watching the man in question.

"I must be getting back to Harry," said Severus, glancing at the clock mounted above Dumbledore's desk. He rose slowly from his chair, wincing as his back gave an audible pop, and moved to where a jar of Floo powder sat on the mantel. "It has been a long night and I am tired, and he will be awake in a few hours time."

"Of course," replied Dumbledore, rising from his seat and moving to where Severus stood. "Severus, I only ask that you consider what I have said."

"I always do," replied Severus reservedly, jaw tight as he fisted the powder, ready to depart. "That doesn't mean, however, that I see any merit in the idea. I will meet with you again at the end of the week and discuss my decision with you."

"I know I depend on you far too much," said Dumbledore, halting Severus as he moved into the fireplace. He did not turn to face Dumbledore, but waited. The older man did not continue, however, and after a moment, Severus replied quietly:

"That you do, Albus. That you do." With this final statement, he released his handful of Floo powder and disappeared in a torrent of green flame, leaving a stricken Headmaster in his wake.

xxx

A squeal escaped Hermione as she ducked behind Harry, a large chunk of marble whipping past her head and shattering against the wall behind her. Her immediate response afterward was to latch onto Harry's collar and tug him to the side of the room, a much safer location from which to observe. Harry, unharmed with the exception of Hermione's attempted strangulation, turned to look on. His eyebrows lifted as he took in the sight of the stone Griffin with its head blasted clear off. His eyes lingered for only a moment before his father's shout of rage dragged his attention back to the two men standing in the middle of the duelling ring.

"Fucking hell, Kinnaird, you're supposed to be aiming at me, not the architecture!"

"I don't think I've ever heard the Professor swear like that before," Hermione whispered to Harry, who chuckled.

"Well, what am I supposed to do when you throw up a rebound shield right before I cast my curse?" countered Kinnaird, wand arm dangling at his side as he stared at Severus incredulously.

"Most rebound shields are good for only one curse at a time," responded Severus, vexation ebbing as he reluctantly switched to lecture mode. "If you are able to process which shield your opponent is using at such a moment when you are unable to cancel the curse, I would suggest the immediate erection of another shield. If the curse cast is strong enough to have an effect on your opponent by the time it breaks the barrier of two shields, then I might try another rebound. If not, choose a strong shield that will withstand several rounds of hexing, because the time it takes to form a defensive spell will allow your opponent more time to fire an offensive one."

"Fascinating," whispered Hermione, trotting over to where her bound parchment lay abandoned on the stone bench they had just abandoned. Flipping to the middle as she moved back to join Harry, she pulled her everlasting quill from the back pocket of her fading muggle trousers and jotted down what the Professor had just said.

"Taught me that last month," Harry muttered under his breath to his friend, who was ignoring him in favour of her self-made notebook. Looking down and realizing she was paying little attention, he grasped her shoulders and directed her back to the side of the duelling pitch.

"Yes, well, that's all very well," responded Kinnaird, irritation edging its way into his tone, "but last I checked, defensive shields don't counter the killing curse. I would much rather spend the energy on offensive spells—"

"Oh don't be thick," snapped Severus, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Not every curse headed your way is going to be a killing curse; even if it were, you should be so lucky."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means that if the Wizard whom you are battling is aiming to kill you so easily, then no amount of fighting is going to help you if you don't know how to defend yourself first and foremost. Considering the skill level of most of the Wizards whom you may be facing, the defensive spells that block offending hexes will benefit you far more than the few offensive spells you have time to cast." Kinnaird opened his mouth to argue, but Severus cut him off quickly. "_Especially_," added Snape, cutting him off smoothly and pointing one long index finger in Kinnaird's direction, "since your opponents will be using their own sets of defensive spells. It's highly unlikely many of your offensive spells will hit the mark. It is better to avoid the weakness your enemies will most certainly inflict on you in favour of having the strength to escape; your arrogance will get you nowhere, Kinnaird. You must recognize that those who will seek to undo you will often be of a much higher skill level, magically."

A growl of frustration escaped Kinnaird and he shook his head, crossing his arms. "I thought that the point of this was for you to teach me better techniques of espionage. Occlumency. Legilimancy. The creation and administration of potions. I can duel well enough already."

Severus' eyes narrowed; to the side of him, Hermione and Harry immediately sat in synchronization, watching with intent interest. Hermione's eyes were wide, chin rested on her palm; Harry wore a smirk, shaking his head slowly.

"Tell me, Kinnaird, do you think I enjoy wasting my time?"

"Are you calling me a waste of time?" asked Kinnaird angrily.

"Oh, grow up," spat Severus. "What I'm telling you is that there is little point in investing hours of time into teaching you skills you won't live long enough to use. You told me you were a skilled duellist. I asked you to demonstrate for me. That was three months ago, Kinnaird, and you've yet to impress me. When you do, we will move on."

A dark laugh came from Kinnaird; tongue in cheek, he nodded his head slowly, expression dubious. "Unbelievable," he muttered, looking away from his mentor. "I still can't believe Dumbledore lets you teach children. I can do without the ridicule, thanks. I'm done for today."

"You would do well to remember that I am doing you a favour!" Severus shouted at Kinnaird's retreating back, fury evident in his eyes. As Kinnaird slammed the door to the Room of Requirement behind him, Severus' gaze shifted to Harry and Hermione, who were staring at him apprehensively. His eyes narrowed further and he opened his mouth to snap at them, but thought better of it as the words started to leave his lips and snapped it shut again.

Correctly reading his expression as one of warning, Hermione was the first to rise, subtly tugging Harry upward as she did. "I just remembered," she said hurriedly, nudging Harry as she gathered her things, apparently expecting him to do the same. "There's a big... erm... Charms project due this week, and we haven't even started. Harry," she said pointedly, as he stared at her in obvious confusion, "we should be leaving."

Harry frowned in confusion, and said, "Wait, we have a Charms project?"

"_Yes, _Harry, we do_,_" Hermione said, grabbing her closed bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "Come on."

Severus' dark eyes followed the two teenagers from the room; he waited until several moments after the door was closed to direct a well-aimed kick at the bench beside him, flinging it over onto its side. It had been many months now that he had been trying to instil the same principles on Kinnaird over and over again. He was truly tiring of it, especially when Kinnaird became cocky enough to provide a rebuttal to his criticisms. It wasn't that Kinnaird's arguments ever held any validity; it was the mere fact he possessed the nerve to defy him. And what was more, watching Kinnaird was making Harry more arrogant. Lately, Harry had taken to talking back quite a bit, making Severus question the intelligence in keeping Harry present for Kinnaird's training sessions.

The problem was, Severus knew that Kinnaird possessed knowledge of Dark Arts that he could never allow Harry to learn; he had hopes that his own instruction would help Harry to defend himself in the coming years against Wizards with such knowledge. Severus had begun training him around the same time as Kinnaird, making sure to keep the boy one step ahead, privately instructing the boy to take note of Kinnaird's strengths and weaknesses. His fear was that when Kinnaird took his place at Hogwarts the following year, Voldemort would ask him to go after Harry. He was unsure if it was paranoia, a consequence of his strengthening ties to his son, or logic that was causing this fear, but he didn't intend to sit idly by.

One thing was certain: Voldemort had certainly been quiet lately, and considering his fondness for striking at the end of the year, Severus wondered if he wasn't concentrating all of his efforts into the coordination of an attack. He had failed several times now. As a consequence (and as Severus had repeatedly told his arrogant son, who lately didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation this placed him in) Voldemort was beginning to understand Harry, and the Death Eaters were familiar with his fighting techniques. Severus had been working with him to diversify his range of capabilities, but there was only so much he could do with school in session and another man to train.

Harry and Kinnaird didn't dislike each other, per se, but neither of them seemed inclined to become bosom buddies. Severus didn't mind. As far as he was concerned, Harry needed to maintain as distant a relationship with him as possible or Voldemort would use their closeness to his advantage. He had understood this imperative notion during his own spying days; whenever Voldemort had asked him to directly interfere with Harry or asked a question about him, Severus always had the excuse on hand that Harry and he were not close and to ask anything of the boy could draw unwanted attention from the Headmaster.

Of course, that excuse had lost its effectiveness when Voldemort had learned that Harry was his son. Never had Severus experienced such relief and disappointment at the same time as when he had been forced to quit spying for the Order. Despite his feelings on the issue, however, it was over and done with, and he understood the necessity of having a spy. He simply didn't understand the necessity of allowing a man with such a role access to the halls of Hogwarts, the living place of the boy-who-lived.

Severus knew he could only keep his best secrets for so long; Kinnaird was getting impatient, and the Headmaster had been hinting not-so-subtly that he knew the reasons why Severus was putting off teaching Kinnaird more than basic duelling strategy. There was truth in what Severus had repeatedly told his trainee, but as he and Dumbledore both knew, it wasn't _the _reason.

Severus cast a glance around the area he'd laid out for duelling. The room of requirement certainly provided an excellent arena on its own, but there were certain things that he required for training that the room didn't provide. Gathering the satchel of items that he would save from use until the next session, Severus wearily eyed the marble Griffin that had its head blasted off and was struck by the irony of it. When he left the room, it would instantly renew itself, ready for the next duel. He, on the other hand, was not afforded the same luxury.

Grimacing as he reached up to tug at his jaw, loosening the muscles knotted deep in his neck, Severus started towards the Headmaster's office.

xxx

"Kinnaird's getting more and more cheeky every session," Harry said quietly to Hermione as they strolled through the vacant library.

"He is," Hermione agreed quietly as they strolled through the empty library. "I would give the Professor some time to calm down before you go to ask him about that Potions assignment."

"Yeah, I know," Harry said, unable to keep the resentful edge out of his voice. Well intending as his friend was, he privately thought that she had a little too much to say on the subject of him and his Father. It was annoying to him that she sometimes presumed to understand Snape more than he did... and more troublesome was the voice in the back of his head saying that it was entirely possible she did.

"So I was thinking," said Hermione, raising her voice just slightly so that she could be heard over the muffled thump of her bag as she dropped it on the library table. Beginning to unpack her books, she glanced at Harry to affirm that he was paying attention and continued. "We've got a busy few weeks approaching us, but that's no reason to fall into the trap of procrastination."

"Isn't this something Ron should be present for?" groaned Harry, leaning back in his chair and covering his face with a tattered edition of the Daily Prophet. On the front of the paper, authorities stood around the home of Auror Leon Williamson, inside of which was a very grim crime scene. Currently, it was the last of a series of attacks on Ministry officials and their families. Harry had been obsessing over the information available to him, hoping to see some sort of pattern and have a sense of when another would occur.

"Harry, take that off your face at once," demanded Hermione, though her tone of voice was gentle. She seemed to sense Harry's preoccupation.

Harry knew very well that he'd been acting out of sorts for the past few weeks and that his friends and father had been showing admirable restraint in the face of his churlishness, and so he complied. He folded his week-old paper and placed it on the table, straightened his posture and placed both feet on the floor in front of him, resting his chin on a fist and waiting attentively.

"Alright," he sighed, putting his best effort into a grin for his friend, "Tell me your plan to combat procrastination."

With a fleeting smile, Hermione pulled a colourful chart from between the pages of the book she was holding and held it up for him to see. At once his expression twisted into one of distaste.

"Oh, don't make that face," chastised Hermione playfully, placing a hand on her hip. "It's not like the charts I made you and Ron last year. It's more of a proposal, really."

"A proposal?" questioned Harry, drawing his brows together. "Explain."

"Well," said Hermione with an air of introduction, "You told me last week that Professor Snape mentioned you are becoming accomplished enough in the area of duelling to begin working on other tasks. If he plans to continue duelling, that means more time spent training. Combined with the increased demands of our courses at the end of the year, you're going to be under a lot of pressure."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," remarked Harry dryly.

"You're very welcome, Professor Snape Jr, but I'm not finished," responded Hermione good-naturedly. Her pleasant expression dulled slightly as she inhaled deeply and cast a glance around, raising her wand. "_Muffliato_," she said quietly, though there was no one within sight. "This is something I've given a lot of thought to, and this is my result. It is a plan of consolidation... not only for you, but for the Professor and me as well. The trouble is going to be convincing him that it's worth following.

"The Alcruor Prosapia is requiring more dedication every day the brewing process continues. If we could convince him that the time spent on the potion can double as time spent training, it will require less time from all of us. With the exception of the incantations, I'm certainly capable of tending to the mundane aspects of brewing while he is otherwise occupied. If he spent even half the time he spends supervising that potion on training with you, it would certainly cut down on the amount of time he must dedicate to each separate task. Also, it is possible that Mr. Kinnaird could be your duelling partner rather than the Professor."

"Hermione," said Harry carefully, grimacing as he struggled to choose the right words. "This is all well and good... But Kinnaird doesn't even know I'm training. And you know my Dad is nothing if not proud. He'll be offended if we even suggest—"

"I know, Harry," said Hermione. "Which is why we have to make him believe this was his idea."

There was a pause, and then a sigh. "He'll know from the moment we enter the room what we're up to."

"Harry—"

"You know I'm right, Hermione."

"I think you're being a bit pessimistic," responded Hermione somewhat patronizingly, tilting her head to the side. "We have a brewing session with him this coming weekend. I will casually demonstrate my familiarity with the potion, you will bring your homework and spend the entire time working, and I will mention my concern over when we will find the time for exams."

"Hermione, I think you're forgetting something."

A look of confusion crossed Hermione's face, and her eyes drifted upwards as she tried to recall what she had forgotten. A second later, she looked back at Harry, who stated baldly, "You are not a Slytherin."

"Oh," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "I never claimed I was. Anyway, if we can't steer him the way we want to perhaps we may propose it directly and he will be interested in negotiation. Don't you always say he's very open to negotiation?"

"Except when he thinks he is the only one who's right... which is most of the time."

"Why are you being like this?" asked Hermione, sounding genuinely annoyed for the first time in their conversation. In all honesty, Harry was a bit surprised it had taken her this long. "It's not as though you are losing anything."

"I just don't see any reason to go through all this trouble so that we'll have a few extra hours to study," explained Harry, folding his arms.

"Have you _looked_ at this?" asked Hermione, waving her chart in his face. "This is not a few extra hours. Follow this plan, spend four days a week training and brewing this potion. Follow the hectic schedule we're currently on and include additions to your training and spend seven days a week. Which sounds better?"

"Are you sure this isn't just a new way to show off for my Dad?" asked Harry, forehead wrinkling as he raised his eyebrows.

A wounded expression crossed Hermione's face. Excitement forgotten, the hand holding up her beloved chart fell limp at her side and she stared at her friend disbelievingly. "I'm just trying to help you," she said quietly. "You're always so tired, and you never—" she drew a shuddering breath, as though she were trying to keep the sad tremble from her voice. "You never smile anymore. I thought... I thought you would appreciate..." She broke off then, apparently not knowing what to say. "Never mind, it doesn't matter," she mumbled, beginning to put everything back into her bag.

"What, Hermione?"

"Nothing," she said more forcefully as she lifted her things from the table.

"Hermione, I wasn't serious," said Harry irritably, to which she scoffed. "Can't you take a joke?"

"You weren't joking," she said, shaking her head and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "And you know it."

"Where are you going?" asked Harry incredulously as she started to walk away.

"To meet Ron, he'll be out of McGonagall's detention soon. You should stay here."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione didn't wait for his response. Huffing, he sat back in his chair, looking around at the wide expanse of empty tables. He was unsure whether he was genuinely becoming irritated with Hermione or simply taking out his other frustrations on her because she was the nearest voluntary victim. Moreover, he was unsure why she was still putting up with it. Sadly, her altruism annoyed him even further, probably because it enhanced his own feelings of guilt.

Slumping forward, Harry rested his forehead on the surface of the table and groaned. Inexplicably, only one distinct thought entered his head: He sure was going to hear it from Ron.

xxx

Severus stood outside of Dumbledore's office, pacing back and forth in front of the door as he waited his turn to speak with the Headmaster. His exasperation was mounting with every turn he took; though he had only been waiting for a few minutes at most, he was unaccustomed to being asked to remain in the hallway while the Headmaster spoke with the likes of Lupin. This was yet another side effect of having lost his position as spy: he had been relegated to the position of doorman while a werewolf sat inside, speaking intimately with Dumbledore. The whole thing was infuriating.

"Thank you, Remus, I will certainly keep that in mind." Dumbledore's voice drifted through the opening as the handle jiggled and the door cracked open.

"No matter at all, Albus," Lupin was saying warmly, causing Severus to roll his eyes and snort. "And remember that I would be willing to contribute whatever you could make use of."

The door opened fully and out stepped a haggard looking Remus Lupin, who returned Severus' sneer with a weary smile. "Severus," he said, inclining his head.

"Lupin," replied Severus stiffly, returning the nod.

"Business as usual, I see," quipped Lupin, referencing Snape's surly look. Behind him, Dumbledore chuckled, to which Snape's glare darkened.

"Indeed."

Lupin sighed and shook his head, giving Dumbledore a small wave and heading for the spiral staircase.

"Come in, Severus," said Dumbledore graciously, welcoming Snape into his office.

Snape strode through the door without comment and Dumbledore closed the door.

"How is the training going, Severus?" asked Dumbledore casually as he moved past Severus towards his desk. The latter looked at him quizzically.

"That is precisely what I am here about, Headmaster," replied Severus carefully, and as Dumbledore turned and gave him a knowing smile, Severus nodded. "I see Kinnaird has already been here."

"He insists that you are purposely sabotaging the lessons," said Dumbledore mildly, settling into his chair. "I assured him he must be mistaken."

Mistaken as Dumbledore might have been, there was no mistaking the hidden question and the hint of suspicion in the statement.

"The boy doesn't listen to a damned thing I say!" snapped Severus, infuriated that the ungrateful young man had the audacity to attempt reporting him to the Headmaster. "I will not enter into another arrangement in which I attempt to instruct an incompetent, arrogant imbecile in the most subtle kinds of magic."

Dumbledore's eyebrows lifted. "Harsh words for the boy you now call son."

"Son or not, those Occlumency sessions were an absolute nightmare, and you know it, Albus," responded Severus confidently, folding his arms. "What Kinnaird is asking me to teach him is more than even that. I must feel confident that he possesses the discipline to take instruction before I even attempt to teach him what he wishes to learn."

"Have you considered, Severus, that you might be approaching this the wrong way?" asked Dumbledore. "I don't understand. You two used to get on so well; you quite enjoyed him as a student."

"Yes, well, that was before he volunteered himself for enslavement, forced me into taxing training sessions and encroached upon the time I should have been spending training my son who is a great deal more valuable to me than someone who may or may not be on our side!"

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and folded his hands atop his desk, closing his eyes. "If you teach him what he is willing to learn, he will listen."

"I won't play by the rules set down by some foolish boy, Albus," replied Severus. "I refuse."

"Then what are we doing here, Severus?" asked Dumbledore, opening his eyes and rising from his desk.

"You requested that I take him up as a trainee, Albus, and I obliged."

"And what good is that to anyone if you are not_ trying_ to help the boy? Do this not for my sake but for his."

"Sir?"

"Without you, he will surely fail," said Dumbledore. "He knows this, and it distresses him. I think he is hurt by your refusal to help him and your rejection of him as a mentor. Treat him well, and he will respond in kind."

"Coddling him will not help, Albus."

"But befriending him may."

Severus shook his head in disbelief and looked away; a very small part of him knew that Dumbledore had a valid point, but the larger and more stubborn portions of him refused to bend to the will of Kinnaird. Given the boy's behaviour lately, he seriously doubted his ability to handle something as intricate as espionage. His sense of subtlety had apparently waned since leaving Hogwarts. The Kinnaird he had mentored got what he wanted by being eager to please, but subdued enough in personality that he was not an annoyance. Rather than seeking authority to solve his problems, he had found inventive ways to make things go his way on his own. Now, he had either lost sense of those skills... or Severus had him at wits end and he had run out of options.

"If you came here with hopes that I would be infuriated with Kinnaird's behaviour and release you from your duties and he from his, then I'm sorry that I cannot oblige," said Dumbledore. "Too much is at stake, Severus, and I beg you to recognize this. We have no other options. You agreed to do this for me, and I must hold you to that promise."

"So you have nothing else to tell me other than to put a smile on my face, pat the boy on his back, and give in to his will?"

"I assure you, Severus, it's not as great a sacrifice of pride as you are making it out to be."

"Ah," responded Severus, somehow stung by the implication that pride was his main motivation. It was clear to him that Dumbledore did not understand how great of a sacrifice he was making on the old man's behalf. Spying had been a great deal more difficult, yes, but at least that job had come with the perk of appreciation and a sense of importance. "Well, thank you for clearing that up for me, Headmaster. I don't know why I didn't realize before how truly petty my concerns were."

Dumbledore looked sadly at Severus but offered no words of consolation. Sensing that there was nothing left to be said in his favour, Severus shook his head. "Good day, Headmaster."

Severus turned and walked through the office, opening and closing the door behind him in one fluid motion. Stalking swiftly through the halls of Hogwarts, he reached his rooms with record speed. As he went, he did it with the distinct feeling that he really had been replaced. He knew it was an irrational thought bourn of deep seated insecurity, but he could not help but feel shocked that Kinnaird had somehow gained the power over Dumbledore to make any of Severus' arguments completely futile.

At one point, Severus' opinion had mattered. While Dumbledore was, in essence, his second master, Severus was treated just as much as an advisor as he was a servant. While everyone continually insisted that his importance hadn't diminished with his loss of Voldemort's trust, he realized that if that consoling thought were true, he would still have the power of persuasion on his side. Dumbledore, however, had not treated his concerns as though they held any merit; he had brushed them off and treated Severus as an errant child who is bound to misbehave and therefore must be forgiven for doing so in advance.

More infuriating than Dumbledore's betrayal was that Kinnaird seemed to believe Severus owed him something... even when he had first approached Severus, it was his lack of humility that had convinced him so thoroughly Kinnaird didn't deserve his help. Severus thought back to the night they had first met after a long period of estrangement, once again turning the details over in his head with painstaking attention to detail... he had viewed the memory in the pensieve more times than he could count, positive that Kinnaird must have said something incriminating at some point.

"_I assumed you would make an appearance at some point. I've been waiting for you, Severus Snape."_

"_Waiting for me?" asked Severus, tone hovering somewhere between wariness and amusement. Unsure of Kinnaird's meaning, he questioned, "And why on Earth would you be hoping to run into me?" _

"_I didn't say I was hoping. I said I was waiting. There's a difference." _

_The smart retort was one Severus would have expected from Kinnaird; narrowing his eyes and glancing over the boy's features again, he felt a twinge of sadness at the fact that this was the boy he had mentored those years ago. The feeling left as quickly as it came, however, and he responded, "Don't evade the question, Kinnaird, that won't work on me. I suggest you state your purpose before—"_

"_Before you hand me over to your bodyguard? You can't arrest a man for conversation, Professor."_

_Severus' eyes drifted pointedly to Kinnaird's left arm. Kinnaird followed his gaze and seemed to comprehend his meaning immediately; wisely, he did not goad Severus any further. _

"_Often as I preach against it, I am not inept at wand waving," said Severus dangerously, raising his wand and lighting it just under Kinnaird's nose. "State. Your. Purpose." _

"_Not interested in catching up, I see," said Kinnaird easily, though his eyes were focused on the wand in front of him. "That's fine, we can get straight to the point. I'm certain Dumbledore's informed you of the task I've been set. I need your help." _

"_You certainly do," Severus agreed softly, one corner of his lips turning upward. "But what makes you think you deserve it?" _

"_If I am successful, you and Potter have a far better chance of living through this war. If I am not, you have lost nothing." _

"_You think too highly of your worth to our cause—"_

_Kinnaird rolled his eyes and interrupted, "I know you can do it; if it weren't for Potter, you'd still be in the Dark Lord's good graces today… hell, you certainly fooled me." There was a hint of bitterness in Kinnaird's voice, but after a pause and a once-over, he continued. "I could learn from you." _

"_The hell you could," Severus stated bluntly, lowering his wand an increment. "I've better things to do, Kinnaird, than to raise you up like a pig for slaughter, which is what you are if you are intent on betraying the Dark Lord… and otherwise, any help I could offer you could be just as detrimental to the Order as it could to him." _

"_A pig for slaughter," repeated Kinnaird, swallowing. "You did it. He didn't kill you." _

"_He was arrogant… he didn't believe anyone would defy him. He will be that much more wary now." _

"_Precisely why I need you."_

"_No."_

"_You could speak to Dumbledore on my behalf," persisted Kinnaird, a hint of pleading to his voice. "Tell him you wish to help me… he would certainly allow it, I'll answer any questions he has and any that you have—"_

"_Answering questions isn't good enough. You made your choice; you're the one responsible for recruiting half those young fools from the pub who are being initiated this week, or am I wrong?" _

_Kinnaird frowned, but didn't respond. _

_Severus considered him for a moment, and tilting his head to the side, he asked, "Why would you be willing to take this risk?"_

"_I have done unspeakable things… I didn't realize the horror associated with becoming a Death Eater. I saw only glory and a cause that my former housemates assured me was the right one."_

"_Textbook answer," responded Severus snidely, and Kinnaird looked at him disbelievingly. "You are a boy of twenty-four, naturally you would be horrified by the activities of the Death Eaters… but that means nothing to me. I don't believe that mere horror would spur you to such a dangerous job. Do not forget that I knew you for seven years, Kinnaird. I know nobility is not one of your finest qualities. If you won't tell me the real reason for turning away, tell me why you think you are the one for this task." _

_Kinnaird appeared taken aback by Severus' response, but he was quickly prepared with an answer. "The Dark Lord is gaining faith in me. I have done everything necessary to come under his good graces, and the rest have begun to accept me as one of their own. Malfoy has taken me under his wing; Rodolphus Lestrange has been instructing me in the Dark Arts. They are convinced that I will be brought into the inner circle within six months, and it is true that the Dark Lord was the one who suggested I gain a position at Hogwarts, given my relationship with you. I am gaining their trust; I know their greatest weaknesses… I know I can do this, if you will just give me the tools."_

Kinnaird's argument had not been comforting, but Severus knew that the acceptance of the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters was key to Kinnaird's success. He had refused the boy, only to report the incident to Dumbledore and have the old man demand that he reevaluate his decision.

Most days, Severus regretted ever having told anyone he'd run into Kinnaird that night. The boy was a brand new thorn in his side.

He was tired of hearing others suggest that he wished for Kinnaird to fail. There were few people who desired Voldemort's fall more than himself. Moreover, he had seen substantial improvement in Kinnaird's dueling abilities over the past few months, reinforcing the thought that the practice was doing him good. Speaking in terms of magical strength and ability, the boy was certainly advanced; this Severus had always known. He had no doubt that his predisposition towards magic and learning combined with the magic he was being taught by Malfoy and Lestrange made him a formidable opponent… but if the boy planned to work for the Order, he would need skills that wouldn't get him sent to Azkaban. Few people seemed to recognize the importance of this… but then, what Kinnaird did on his own time was not known to many, nor should it have been.

Furthermore, Severus knew that he had helped correct many of the weaknesses that he suspected Kinnaird's fellow Death Eaters were purposely attempting to endow him with. He knew the way his former comrades liked to break in new and promising members: they always made sure that they didn't become more powerful than their superiors. Severus had spent years with those same men and knew what to watch for, and Kinnaird had certainly fallen into their trap.

He was delaying the inevitable by teaching Kinnaird these skills before those he was more desperate to learn, but they were vital skills nonetheless. Severus had hoped that by the time they had completed this segment of their lessons, he would have discovered Kinnaird's motivations and the reasons he was so desperate to learn not only Occlumency but Legilimancy as well. Kinnaird, however, was all too aware of Severus' subtle attempts at probing and had evaded all queries with remarkable ease.

This unnerved the Potions Master.

He was still unsure what the younger man was hiding, but he did know that he didn't want to allow him access to anything in his mind before he learned of it. The Headmaster did not seem to recognize the danger in allowing such a thing. Willingly giving access to his mind for the purpose of practicing Legilimancy could have detrimental effects on both Severus and the cause for which he fought.

With this thought, Severus put on a pot of tea and sat down on his couch, casting a baleful glance the stack of papers waiting on the table to be marked. The top essay was a good meter longer than he had requested, and with a sneaking suspicion, he checked the name. Ah, predictably, it read _Hermione Granger _in small, neat writing. The thought struck him that not so many years ago, Kinnaird had been another rare student on whom Severus could always count to go above and beyond. It was one of the reasons he had taken him on for private tutorship in Potions. He recalled that in those days, the boy had been respectful, grateful for the opportunity, and had confided in him often.

Severus murmured thoughtfully to himself, relaxing absent mindedly into the soft back of the couch.

Perhaps there was some merit to the idea of softening up on Kinnaird. If he appeared to be genuinely concerned for him, perhaps the boy would drop his defenses. Once he did so, Severus would have a much easier time of learning his intentions and the reasons behind them. He would once again confide in his mentor… but with any luck, his confessions of late would be much more telling.

At least speaking with the Headmaster had been good for _something. _

Smirking at his own antics, Severus summoned his kettle of tea and began marking the stack of sixth year essays, mind much more at ease.

xxx

The loud close of the dormitory door as the last boy left for breakfast in the Great Hall told Harry he was finally alone in his room. Sitting up and rolling his neck, he pulled back the maroon curtains on his bed and swung his legs off his bed…

…and promptly jumped when he looked up and saw Ron sitting on the bed straight across from him, giving him a dirty look.

"Ron," Harry said, breathing slightly quicker. "Scared me."

"You've been avoiding me," said Ron, pushing off from the edge of the bed and crossing his arms.

"No I haven't," responded Harry, directing his attention to pulling on the nearest pair of socks.

"Is that why you didn't get out of bed until you thought everyone was gone? And you didn't come to bed until late after curfew last night."

"I was with my Dad," Harry lied, avoiding eye contact. "Had to rewrite my Potions essay completely once he was through with it."

"Funny," said Ron coldly. "Because Hannah Abbott said she saw you going into the Room of Requirement and wondered if we were having a late night DA meeting."

Caught, Harry merely shrugged and began dressing.

"Why are you being such a prat to Hermione?"

"Oh, you're one to talk. You're _always_ a prat to Hermione."

"Yeah, but she expects it from me," said Ron in complete seriousness. "You, on the other hand, she counts on to be kind."

"Can't a bloke have an off day every now and again?" asked Harry defensively, irritated by the inquisition.

"Sure… but lately all your days are off, so what are we supposed to do about that?"

"Very funny," Harry grumbled.

"I wasn't trying to be," responded Ron. "I know she's a head-case. But you're not supposed to _tell _her she's a head-case."

"I didn't call her that," Harry protested.

"Harry, just tell her you think it's a good idea, because if I have to sit up with her in the common room for one more night while she comes up with a better plan, _I'm _going to be a nutter too."

Harry wanted to protest, but he privately agreed with Ron. He owed Hermione at least recognition for her effort, even if he didn't believe that rearranging their entire schedule for the sake of homework was a worthwhile cause. And more than that… Ron didn't look like he was willing to take no for an answer.

"Yeah, okay," he agreed reluctantly, clasping his robes in the front and pulling on his trainers. "Let's go."

Upon meeting Hermione in the common room, Harry stiffly delivered his apology and encouragement as Ron had suggested, all the while with his red-headed friend standing behind Hermione, arms crossed. Hermione had naturally accepted his apology and forced a cheery smile for his sake, but Harry got the feeling that she suspected Ron's role in all of it.

Conversation was strained over breakfast that morning, but the tension gradually lessened throughout the course of the day as they moved from class to class. It was obvious that a rift had occurred within the trio, but for the sake of their friendship, Hermione continued to force falsely pleasant conversation between them until Ron had quit grunting all of his responses and Harry had begun to use more than one word in his.

Somehow, it pleased Harry that he could count on this.

It wasn't until dinner that the general flow of their conversation had eased considerably and Hermione became brave enough to suggest presenting her idea to Snape that night.

"Well," Harry began to hedge, until he received a dark look from Ron. "As long as we find out what his mood is like, first. I don't quite feel like being hexed tonight."

"Oh, of course!" responded Hermione brightly, apparently pleased that he had agreed. "If he doesn't seem receptive, we can try another time."

Harry pretended not to notice Ron's look of approval as he focused on his dinner. He glanced up at the head table and noticed his father watching them with a mild expression. Catching Harry's eye, Severus nodded once. Harry gave him a small smile and returned his attention to his friends, who were now arguing over the length assigned for their most recent Transfiguration essays.

Shaking his head, he found that he was not truly annoyed by their banter. He was grateful for the simplicity of it. Rising from the table and leaving them to their conversation, he walked up the aisle towards where his father sat, picking over his food.

"Good evening," said Severus with an air of moderate surprise as Harry came to stand before him.

"Hello," Harry responded. "I was wondering if you might be in your office later tonight."

"I will," responded Severus slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Need I be worried?"

"Oh, no!" said Harry, grinning despite himself. He should have guessed that his Father would immediately jump to the worst conclusion. "Hermione and I just have some questions for you regarding the upcoming Potions test," he said, laying extra stress on the word _potions_.

"Ah," said Severus, immediately catching his meaning. "In that case, you may feel free to come any time after seven-thirty. I will have completed my marking by then so we may have unlimited time."

"Great," said Harry, and he meant it. Lately, the only time he got to spend with his Father was in training and a majority of the words they exchanged then were often of a less friendly nature. "I will see you tonight then."

Severus nodded in agreement and Harry made his way back to where his friends sat at Gryffindor's table. Hermione and Ron were looking at him quizzically.

"Seven-thirty," Harry said, sitting down and resuming his dinner.

"Oh, that will give us time to finish our Charms homework," said Hermione, looking genuinely happy about that prospect. Beside her, Ron groaned.

Thanks to Hermione's insistence that they finish what they started, the two did not end up leaving for Snape's office until roughly eight that night. Both Harry and Hermione insisted that Ron should come along, but he was wholly convinced that it would be better if he remained behind. While Hermione had become quite accustomed to Snape's fits of pique and dark demeanour, Ron remained steadfastly intimidated.

The door was already propped open when Harry and Hermione arrived; that in and of itself seemed promising. Knocking lightly on the door to let him know that they were arriving, they entered the office. Snape's desk had been vacated and a stream of light issued from the crack in the door of the storage room.

Crossing the room, Harry pushed the door open. Severus stood on a ladder, pulling various vials off of the top shelf.

"Ah, there you are," said Severus, extending the vials in his grasp downwards. "Set these on my desk."

Harry wordlessly did as he was asked, holding them carefully as not to drop them and walking back into the office where Hermione was waiting. A short moment later, Severus joined them.

"What's all this?" asked Harry, looking around at the vast array of tiny glass encased potions.

"They are for the infirmary," said Severus dismissively, walking back to the storage room to close and lock the door. Pulling his wand from his robes, he flicked it and the door to the office swung closed.

"Now, explain to me exactly what it is you wished to discuss," said Severus as he moved to the chair behind his desk.

"Well," said Hermione as the two of them sat, "I've been looking over the instructions for the potion lately, and I've noticed that it's going to be requiring much more attention."

Hermione paused and Severus nodded, waving for her to continue.

"Most of the things that need to be done seem relatively easy, but the problem is going to be time consumption. We were curious how we will be able to give the potion the attention it needs with the increased demands of our school work and Harry's training."

"Surely, Miss Granger, you do not believe I would allow you to neglect your studies," said Severus in a deceptively benign tone. There was an underlying suspicion in his expression that Harry did not believe Hermione recognized, for she continued on.

"Of course not," she said, shaking her head. "We were just curious."

"So you've scheduled a meeting with me during office hours so that I might... allay your curiosity?" Severus lifted a brow in question, and Hermione instantly began to stutter her response.

"Well, I—no—"

"Miss Granger, you have a point, that much is obvious. I must request that you kindly _get to it._"

Outrageously, Harry had to fight the urge to laugh at Hermione's blatant lack of cunning. He _had _warned her. "Hermione, just show him the chart."

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, staring at him with such a look of betrayal that one might think he had just suggested sacrificing her to Lord Voldemort.

"Miss Granger?" said Severus, looking inquisitively in her direction.

Tearing her gaze away from Harry, Hermione appeared not to know what to do. After staring at the Professor for several moments with her mouth agape, she finally heaved a sigh and tugged her bag onto her lap, extracting her chart.

"I hope you will see some merit in this," she said apprehensively, extending it to him. With a look of amusement, he reached across the desk and took it from her.

Several long minutes passed in which Severus surveyed the chart and Harry wondered how long Hermione could stay upright without breathing.

Severus finally laid the chart flat on his desk and raised his eyes to Hermione, his expression pensive. "You realize the amount of work you are asking to take on might interfere with _your _studies, do you not?"

"I believe I can handle it."

"Your friend is willing to take on a substantial amount of work for you, Harry," said Severus, glancing in Harry's direction. "And for me as well. Why is this, Miss Granger?"

"Sir? I don't understand what you mean."

"Explain to me your motivations, and I will consider allowing you to assist more often."

"I enjoy the work, sir," said Hermione earnestly, unconsciously scooting forward in her chair. "I know that you are both very busy and I wish to be of service. If there is anything I can contribute to this war it is my academic skill, and I believe that by using it in this way both you and Harry will be better off. Certainly everyone would be better for it."

Severus was resting his chin atop laced fingers, now, watching Hermione with a placid expression. When she finished speaking, his gaze shifted to Harry, who stared back at him passively.

"Very well, Miss Granger, you've convinced me," said Severus, unfolding his hands and sitting back in his chair. "You may certainly spend more time working independently on the potion; I believe you are skilled enough to do so. We will discuss how this will fit in with your school schedule at a later date. Agreeable?"

"Yes, sir, thank you," said Hermione in a rush of gratitude, smiling from ear to ear.

"With that decided, I believe you are dismissed, Miss Granger. I will hold on to this," he said, motioning to the chart.

"Yes, sir," said Hermione quickly, standing and picking up her bag. Harry stood as well, but Severus held up a hand.

"I wish to speak with you alone," he said. Harry sank back into his chair.

Hermione looked as though she wanted to remain behind or at least ask a question, but apparently did not wish to try her luck.

"I'll see you in the common room, Harry," she said instead. "Good night, Professor."

"You agreed rather quickly," Harry commented once the door was closed behind Hermione.

A wry smile curling his lips, Severus replied, "I spoke with the Headmaster about enlisting Miss Granger's further aid a week ago. I was simply waiting until the time when she would be needed had arrived."

"Why didn't you just say that from the start?" asked Harry amusedly.

"Why, I wanted her to believe it was her idea," said Severus deviously, giving Harry a knowing look. "More to the point... if I hadn't let her elaborate, she never would have given me this splendid chart," he finished, picking it up and snapping it tight.

For the first time in weeks, Harry erupted into laughter... and for the first time that he could recall, Severus joined him.

As their laughter died down, the two shared a moment of contented silence, and then Severus sobered, leaning forward in a manner that told Harry he'd been held behind for a real purpose. Wiping his silly grin from his face, he waited for Severus to tell him what it was.

"I do want to talk to you about your training... and about Mr. Kinnaird," Severus said, frowning slightly at the mention of the latter. "I believe it is time for Kinnaird to move on to other pursuits, as it is for you... but it will be very difficult for me to manage both while hiding the fact that I am training you."

"But... you don't mean to train us together?" asked Harry, thinking that tensions were high enough when he and Severus worked on their own. Adding Kinnaird to the mix would only strain an already delicate working relationship.

"Not quite," said Severus, grimacing. "However, duelling needs to be paid attention to... and I would like you to take note of some of Kinnaird's weaknesses. Firstly, I'm interested in your perception of your enemy's level of strength and secondly, I believe that news of your training would be beneficial to pass on to the Dark Lord."

"Why?" questioned Harry, frowning deeply. He didn't like the sound of that plan at all.

"Because you are going to make Kinnaird believe you are weaker than you are," said Severus, watching Harry's expression carefully. "If you do that, he will have the benefit of the Dark Lord's added confidence in his abilities to glean useful information from us, and the Dark Lord will make your demise less of a priority."

"But if he knows that I am getting stronger—"

"He always suspects that you are getting stronger, Harry," said Severus gently, hearing the alarm in his son's voice. "He simply doesn't know how strong. We have to make him underestimate you; with your magical ability and the use of the potion unknown, he will not exert nearly as much effort into killing you. We must not forget that his arrogance is one of our greatest advantages."

"I thought you didn't want Kinnaird to know any of my weaknesses."

"I didn't," responded Severus. "And now I do."

"Is this your idea or Dumbledore's?" asked Harry, unable to keep the spite out of his voice.

"Dumbledore has no part in it," said Severus honestly, though he appeared to be somewhat surprised at the accusation. "You must believe that this is in your best interest. You are not being played as a pawn like you seem to believe. I am presenting this to you before anyone else, Harry, believe that."

Harry hesitated, sizing Severus up, but the older man kept his expression neutral. It wasn't that Harry believed he would lie about this. It was simply that the position Severus was taking on the issue now was so radically different from what he had said in the past. Lastly, Harry trusted Severus never to hurt him too badly... but if he was supposed to convince Kinnaird that he wasn't a skilled duellist, then how much would he be required to take?

But then... Severus had said it was in his best interest. And he was positive that coming to any serious harm wasn't in his Father's definition of best interests. Really, it was a decision he could only make based on trust.

And he did trust his Father.

"I'll do it."

The corner of Severus' mouth curled upwards, and he nodded curtly. Secretly, he felt an incredible amount of relief. Not for the first time, he felt as though he were catching a glimpse of the man Harry was going to become, and he didn't feel overconfident in his belief: Harry was going to survive this war.

xxx End Chapter 44 xxx

AN: I thoroughly enjoyed writing this chapter. Thank you so much for your kind words, to those of you who reviewed last chapter. Every time I got a new review I opened up the document and worked a little bit more on this and I am really satisfied with the product. This is for everyone who has stuck with the story; I'm taking a bit of a twist from the original outline but it is refreshing and I find that I'm much more satisfied with where this is all going now. You have been inspirational, truly.

This is my holiday present to all of you! Happy New Year and may you all have a wonderful 2009.

**8/22/2011- I am currently halfway through Chapter 45. **

_Imperio_! Review please :)


	45. Loyalty

Chapter 45

Loyalty

xxx

"The Flame-Freezing Charm," lectured Flitwick from atop his desk at the front of the Charms classroom, "is the very same you've read about in History of Magic, most popularly used during witch-burning trials..."

Beside Harry, Ron sat slumped in his chair, cheek resting on his fist as he drew animated sketches of Quidditch players on the otherwise blank sheet of parchment in front of him. On the other side of Ron, Hermione sat diligently adding to the notes she'd already taken while doing the reading the night before. As for Harry, his attention was on something else entirely.

Across the room, Draco Malfoy sat hunched over his desk, chin resting atop his closed textbook; from the frequent fluttering of his eyelids followed by the noticeable jerking of his limbs, he was just barely fighting the temptation to sleep. From his profile, Harry could see dark circles blemishing his normally healthy, if not pale, complexion. His hair actually looked like it could use a wash. As for his attire, Harry couldn't help but notice that his shirt was the same one he'd worn the day before. This was not typical Malfoy behaviour, and Harry had been noticing it more and more as of late.

The oddest part of it all was that while Malfoy had been demonstrating the same disregard for his appearance and the lectures in every class, every single professor had yet to reprimand him for his lack of attention. This struck Harry as particularly significant. As he had learned from his father's painstaking attention to his schoolwork, the teachers in the school were not at all hesitant to mention when a student's work ethic was slipping, especially to other teachers. Yet no one seemed eager to discuss what was going on with this particular boy.

And Malfoy had been avoiding him.

As soon as news of new Death Eater attacks had started leaking their way into the Daily Prophet, Harry's first reaction had been to seek out Malfoy and find out what he knew... but when he had proposed the idea to his Father, he had been forbidden to do so. And while Severus was normally very honest with Harry, he had become very harsh as soon as Harry had begun to question his reasoning.

"_All that I know is mere speculation," _Severus had answered shortly. _"When Draco Malfoy's problems become directly linked to you, trust me to inform you. Until then, you are _not _to approach him under any circumstances."_

All that Harry knew was that all of a sudden, everyone was singing a very different tune about how to handle the problem of Draco Malfoy. While Severus had previously wanted Harry to take control of securing Malfoy's loyalty, he now was forbidding him to further the project. While Malfoy had previously been considered little more than an annoyance, numerous individuals were now tip-toeing around him.

Staring in Malfoy's direction, Harry's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He only vaguely heard Flitwick's voice in the background as he gave instructions on how to produce the charm, and it was only the sharp jab of Hermione's elbow in his side that prompted him to lazily repeat the incantation after his Professor.

When Draco had first offered Harry his aid months before, Harry had considered it both suspicious and unnecessary. Now, with the prospect of losing that option, he was beginning to feel panicked. What did Severus know that he wasn't telling Harry? Why was he again being told to let the adults handle the situation?

He was the one who would eventually have to kill Voldemort. He was the boy whom everyone depended on, but who was constantly being told exactly what to do in order to bring this about. Severus repeatedly told him he needed to grow up, take responsibility, and guide his own future; yet, when it came to the really serious matters—the things that were of the most vital importance to him—nothing was in his hands aside from a list of instructions with little justification behind them.

It was with this thought in mind that Harry rose from his seat as Professor Flitwick dismissed them.

"—we ought to gather our books and head for the lake, it's such a lovely day," Hermione was saying, to which Ron responded:

"That'd be brilliant—minus the books, of course."

"What do you think, Harry, join us outside for a bit of light reading before Transfiguration this afternoon?"

"You go ahead," Harry said absently, hurriedly shoving his books into his bag. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

Harry barely spared his friends a glance as he slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried after Malfoy, who had already slipped out the door and disappeared into the busy corridor. He missed the anticipatory glance they exchanged, and paid little attention as they attempted to follow expeditiously behind him.

It was late in the afternoon and the corridor bustled with activity; flustered first years dashed into their classrooms well ahead of the bell's chime, and seasoned seventh years congregated with others, finishing off homework for the next class period. Harry's focus, however, was not on the students around him.

Spotting Malfoy's unmistakeable blonde head bobbing above many others in the horde of children, Harry twisted and turned his way through the crowd to catch up to him. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed Ron's flaming red hair among the commotion; ducking under some of the taller students, he quickly lost his tail. With his target in sight, he followed at a safe distance until Malfoy turned down the next corridor, moving in an almost trancelike state towards the stairs. Harry narrowed his eyes in determination and continued to tail him closely.

In the back of his mind, his father's words rang through his mind, a confused mixture of contradictory statements.

_This is a war, Harry, and it is upon us. It's not just a prophecy anymore—it's happening. You need to realise that and start acting like an adult._

And then:

_My instruction far more imperative than you treat it._

He did not mean to disobey his father. He did not intend to disregard his instructions. Yes, Severus had instructed him not to approach Malfoy. Yes, he had assured him that he would continue to keep him apprised of current events.

But he hadn't, had he? Though he certainly told him more than anyone else was willing to, he still kept a considerable amount of information to himself when he deemed it inappropriate or inconsequential.

It was all very Slytherin. He kept his promises by creating loopholes in them from the beginning. 'I will keep you informed of what you _need _to know' had become, 'I needn't inform you because you _don't need_ to know'.

Well, Harry could follow his father's example. 'I will not approach Malfoy' could become 'I could not avoid Malfoy' very easily.

As Malfoy finally turned the corner to an empty corridor on the fourth floor, Harry stopped before following. Glancing around to see that no one was watching, he opened his bag and tugged his invisibility cloak from deep inside; it had been quite awhile since he had been able to use it, and the feeling of the smooth material slipping between his fingers as he threw it over his head gave him a little jolt of adrenaline.

As quietly as he could, he sped to catch up with the other boy. It was not a difficult task; Malfoy appeared to be in his own world as he stalked down the corridor, shoulders slack with the evidence of exhaustion and his gait heedlessly steady, as though his destination was the _only_ thing that wasn't on his mind.

As Harry neared Malfoy he slowed down and steadied his breathing, walking practically on the tips of his toes in order to make as little noise as possible. Stealthily, he crept past Malfoy almost unnoticed; for a brief moment, Malfoy's breathing hitched and his eyes cast warily about him, but he seemed to disregard whatever thought had occurred in that moment.

Reminding himself not to breathe a sigh of relief, Harry darted around the next corner and walked speedily down the corridor until he reached one of the benches tucked underneath the great stained glass window. Hastily, he removed his invisibility cloak and stuffed it in his bag, pulling out his Charms text and burying his nose in it.

The steady _click, clack, _of Malfoy's dragonhide boots as they hit the hard stone of the corridor alerted Harry to his rounding the corner. He kept his eyes steady on the page before him, unseeing but moving rhythmically over the words nevertheless.

The measured steps ceased. Slowly, one foot hit the ground again. Then, the other. They stopped again.

As though he had only just been made aware of Malfoy's presence, Harry lowered his Charms book and raised his eyes to the Slytherin standing mere metres away from him.

"Malfoy," he breathed in a low voice, furrowing his brow. Inwardly, he congratulated himself on the coolness of this greeting.

Malfoy did not immediately respond, except to slowly look Harry up and down. Then, as though he had never been spoken to, he turned his eyes forward and continued to walk down the hallway, past Harry and to the steps leading down a floor.

For a moment, Harry was dumbfounded. Had Malfoy really, unabashedly, without pretence, ignored him?

Indeed. Indeed he had.

Thinking quickly, Harry leapt to his feet and followed after Malfoy, who was hurrying down the steps.

"Malfoy!" He shouted from the top of the steps, quickly descending to meet him on the landing.

Malfoy halted in his tracks, seemingly debating whether or not to ignore this as well. After a brief moment, he spun around, glaring balefully at Harry. He huffed and shook his head, apparently searching for the right words.

"Can I help you with something?" he finally asked in a sneer, though his tone indicated that he already knew.

Harry's chest rose and fell with his angry, laboured breathing; he pressed his lips into a firm line, frowning at his opponent. He hadn't considered what he would say if Malfoy did not approach him on his own; he had never known the other boy to resist an opportunity to apprise Harry of his own lack of worth, at the very least.

"Apparently not," Harry found himself responding, willing Malfoy to challenge him.

"If it is so apparent, then what on earth are you bothering me for?" Malfoy asked irritably.

Frustrated that Malfoy wasn't playing into his plan, Harry crossed his arms and answered, "I would rather like to know what exactly it is that you're avoiding, Malfoy."

"I'm certain I don't understand what you're talking about," said Malfoy, but not nearly as blithely as he had certainly tried for.

"Eight months ago," Harry said quietly, stepping closer, "you were insistent that you were invaluable to me. I _know _that Voldemort—"

"_Shut up!_" Malfoy hissed insistently as his fingers twisted in the fabric of Harry's robes and he backed him off the landing and into the cover of the adjoining corridor. He looked around frantically as he released him and then turned his dismayed expression on Harry. "Do you know what will happen if _he _so much as hears that I've been speaking to you? Do you have _any _idea?"

Shocked, and torn between socking the other boy in the jaw or waiting for him to reveal exactly what it was he was hinting at, Harry straightened his robes in an effort to regain his composure, and began to respond, "I _might _have an idea if you—"

But Harry never got to complete that sentence. Footsteps moving frantically across hard stone echoed down the corridor, and Malfoy backed away, eyes turned in that direction.

With a final glare at Harry, he shook his head slowly. "Do _not_ try this again," he warned in a low voice, extending a finger in Harry's direction for emphasis. "Got it? Or everything I've been through will be for _nothing_, you understand?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond that no, he did not understand anything other than the fact that Malfoy was a useless, cowardly prat, but the other boy was already heading in the opposite direction down the corridor, and the voices behind them were getting closer. Somewhat bewildered, but composed, Harry turned to walk away...

...and spotted Hermione and Ron, followed closely by none other than Kinnaird, heading in his direction.

A surge of anger flooded Harry's brain and his heartbeat dropped to his stomach, disbelieving of the vision in front of him. His stride faltered and he stared at his friends, a sense of betrayal creeping its way into his chest. He had been so close, and his friends' interference had thwarted him.

Kinnaird pushed past Harry's friends and moved quickly to stand in front of Harry, his gaze focused on the Malfoy's back as the other boy hurried down the corridor.

Turning to Harry, he asked in an absurdly gallant tone, "What did he say to you? Did he attack you?"

Rolling his eyes and shoving past the older man, Harry muttered, "No," and moved to meet Ron and Hermione, who were speechlessly staring at him with guilty eyes.

Behind him, Kinnaird rambled on, "Have you any idea how terribly that could have ended? He is far more dangerous than you give him credit for—"

"I know, okay?" Harry snapped, whipping around to glare at Kinnaird and stopping him from uttering yet another audacious reprimand. "I know a lot more than you do about it, so just bugger off."

Behind him, Kinnaird's expression gave way to one of confusion; in front of him, Hermione's face melted into one of nervous expectance, and Ron shifted his feet sheepishly.

"And you two—" started Harry, only to be interrupted by Hermione.

"Harry, I'm sorry—it's just that we were trying to stop you, the Professor said just the other night about Malfoy, and when we couldn't find you we got worried, and he," Hermione said in a rush, gesturing towards Kinnaird, "was the only person we could find—"

"You don't need to protect me, alright?" said Harry angrily. "I can handle myself, especially against the likes of Malfoy."

"You realize I'm going to speak to Professor Snape about this," interjected Kinnaird. "You've given me no—"

"_You,_" said Harry with an increased surge of anger, "can kindly stay out of this. I'll tell him myself."

Unsure of where he was going, but positive he didn't want to stick around to be lectured by this lot, Harry stepped around Hermione with a final glare and headed back towards the stairs. Much to his chagrin, his friends followed.

"You always say you don't need our help, Harry," Hermione was saying as she hurried along behind him. "But how many times have you needed us in the past? Why won't you trust us to help you?"

"There are just some things I need to do on my own, Hermione," Harry said through clenched teeth as he began to descend the stairs. He stopped and turned to his friends, who came to an abrupt halt behind him. "That's what this is all about, you realize. _I _am the one who has to defeat him in the end. _I _am the one who's got to risk my life to stop him—"

"Oh, because we've just been cheering you on from the stands, is that right, Harry?" interrupted Ron, red faced and incredulous. "We've never risked _our _lives, right?"

Harry began to respond, but realized he had no retort to this. A little pang of guilt rippled through him as he considered how thick-headed he'd sounded; but that hadn't been his intent.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, taking care to keep his tone level and calm. "I'm not ungrateful for all you've done before. But I _did _have everything under control."

Ron still looked a bit angry, and Hermione a bit put-out, but they didn't respond. Harry turned and started heading down the stairs again; his friends kept at his heels.

"And now," Harry said sorely, "I've got to go talk to my father, who is going to hex me back to the eighteenth century, because if I don't, _Kinnaird _is going to run off to him and try to prove himself–"

Harry could almost hear Hermione's guilt in the huff that emitted behind him; he looked over his shoulder, and she had halted on the steps.

"Listen," Hermione said placatingly, "I'll go take care of Kinnaird. You two just go to the common room, and I'll meet you there. It'll be empty anyway, and Professor Snape will be busy preparing for his next lesson, so Kinnaird's not going to get to him till the end of the day, besides. We've got that long to help you figure out what to say."

Seeming to take his cue from Hermione, Ron agreed and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, urging him back up the stairs. "Come on, mate. No need to ruin the day this early on with a dour Professor Snape."

Harry wanted to object and insist that due to the circumstances, he had little choice in the matter; however, Hermione was already hurrying off to find Kinnaird, and Ron was standing there, looking at him expectantly. With a huff of irritation, Harry shrugged his shoulders and began to climb.

"There's a good lad," Ron said in jest, nudging him in the side with his elbow and climbing with him.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "Though I don't know how Hermione thinks she's going to convince Kinnaird to keep his mouth shut."

"It's Hermione," Ron responded, as though that in and of itself was an explanation. "She'll figure something out."

It was some time later when Hermione finally returned to the common room. She came through the portrait hole looking slightly worse for the wear, but gave the boys a weary smile of greeting nevertheless.

"Well?" Ron prompted, looking at her expectantly. Harry simply sat next to him, waiting for an answer, and preparing himself for disappointment.

"I caught up with him just outside of Snape's classroom; he was waiting to catch him on the way to class. I think I convinced him that what he saw was inconsequential."

"You think?" Harry repeated dubiously, eyebrows raised.

Hermione's face twisted into a grimace, and she bunched up her shoulders as she splayed her hands at her side. "I told him that you and Professor Snape had dealt with Malfoy before, and you were planning on talking to him about it anyway. I thought, if Kinnaird thought that Professor Snape wouldn't be surprised by the news that you two had been talking, that he wouldn't be as tempted to use the information to gain Professor Snape's approval."

Harry privately agreed with Hermione on that point. He and Kinnaird rarely spoke; even more than that, Severus rarely gave Kinnaird the time of day. Though he had agreed to help train him to misdirect Voldemort through the use of Occlumency, he consistently resisted the idea of trusting the other Slytherin. Kinnaird seemed determined to fix this; he had offered Dumbledore his assistance in patrolling the castle regularly. He had voluntarily taken on a Remedial Potions study group in order to assist Professor Snape with some of the more dense Potions students. He had finally quit challenging the Potions Master at every turn; instead, he kept his mouth shut during their lessons.

Now, Harry worried that Kinnaird would jump at the opportunity to gain Severus' trust by playing the hero to Harry's impulse. Well, Harry would have none of that.

"We need to be sure," Harry said, almost to himself. He looked up at his friends. "I'm going to tell my father that I ran into Malfoy in the corridor and—"

"And what?" asked Ron. "Casually stumbled upon the topic of Voldemort and happened to disagree? I don't think Snape's going to be convinced, Harry."

Harry took a moment to stare at Ron incredulously before responding. "_No_." His gaze flickered to the ceiling in annoyance; he took in Hermione's expression of apprehensiveness, and continued. "My plan, before you two interfered, was to use whatever Malfoy said as a way to get even more information from my father."

"And now?" asked Hermione.

"Now I'm going to say that I ran into Malfoy, he was a complete prat, and he must be up to something."

Hermione and Ron exchanged looks of blatant disbelief.

"What?" Harry exclaimed.

Neither responded except to stare at Harry blankly, and he elaborated. "My father keeps telling me to leave Malfoy alone; he won't tell me a damned thing. He keeps stating that the facts are muddled at this point. Well, I figure, if I tell him what Malfoy said, he'll be distracted from the circumstances and tell me what in the bloody hell is really going on."

"Not sure that's going to work, but I wish you luck," stated Ron, shaking his head and returning to the homework he was working on for his next class period.

"Don't you think that the Professor would tell you what was going on if he knew?" asked Hermione carefully, as though she were afraid to upset Harry by the suggestion. "I mean, he clearly stated that he wanted you to leave Malfoy alone, and to tell him that you approached him and expect the outcome to be in your favour... I don't know, Harry. It seems awfully far-fetched."

Again, Harry felt compelled to remind Hermione that this situation was entirely her fault. However, the apprehensive look on her face, coupled with her purposefully mild and careful tone, told Harry that he didn't need to remind her of the situation.

"Have you any other suggestions?" he asked tightly, staring aimlessly at the wall.

"If it were me," Ron offered, glancing up from his homework, "I'd tell him Malfoy had hexed me, and get the arsehole in a load of trouble—"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped reprovingly. Ron shut his mouth and glared resentfully at her, but didn't continue his sentence. Hermione focused her gaze on Harry, her look softening considerably as she addressed him. "Harry," she began in a tone that indicated a lecture was to follow. "I would tell him the truth. He will find out eventually anyway."

Harry snorted. "Right. _Hey, Dad, remember what you told me _not _to do? Well, I did it anyway. _That will work. That will get me the answers I'm looking for straight away."

"Well," Hermione said in a huff, "what is your grand idea, then?"

"Simple," Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not going to _lie_. I'm going to _omit_. There's a big difference."

"Like I keep saying," Ron said without looking up, "too much time around Snape."

xxx

It was late in the evening when Harry finally made it down to Severus' office. He had planned to go right after classes, but Professor McGonagall had delayed him after Transfiguration for a talk about his most recently failed essay. He had planned to go before dinner, but Filch had informed him that Professor McGonagall would be requiring him to fulfil his detention for the very same failed essay that evening. He'd planned to go after dinner, but Hermione had insisted he stick around to finish off his Charms homework with her and Ron, since otherwise he might not get it done.

So, yes, it was very late in the evening when Harry finally trudged down the stairs to the dungeons.

He planned the talk in his head the whole way down. He thought about how he would explain Malfoy and himself running into each other in the corridor. He thought about how he would explain his own reaction to Malfoy's hostility. He thought about many things, but when he was finally rapping his knuckles against the Potion Master's office door, he nevertheless felt sick to his stomach.

There wasn't much time for nervousness to take effect, as Professor Snape whipped the door open almost seconds after Harry had knocked on it. The Professor's expression was stern and unchanging as he greeted Harry; the young Gryffindor got the distinct feeling that Severus had been expecting him as soon as he'd heard the sound of knuckles against wood.

"Come in," Severus said curtly, stepping back and allowing Harry to enter. Once the boy was inside, Severus shut the door and moved quickly to his desk. "I am surprised to see you this evening," he commented mildly as he sank into his chair. "I had thought you would be serving that detention with Filch."

Harry's heart immediately sank. He was already several steps behind; so, his father had heard about both his grades and his subsequent detention.

"Erm...yeah," Harry mumbled, avoiding eye contact. "I—"

"I thought we had already talked about you keeping your grades up," said Severus as he folded his hands on his desk and fixed his stern gaze on Harry. "How quickly you seem to have forgotten."

"I didn't forget," Harry responded, immediately set on edge by Severus' condescending tone. He sat. "I just... misunderstood the instructions."

"You were late to class and handed in an essay that Professor McGonagall told me looked as though it were thrown together in less than an hour."

"Well, Hermione didn't remind me until the last minute."

"It is not Miss Granger's responsibility to keep you afloat," Severus responded slowly, the irritation in his voice increasing by the syllable.

"I know," Harry muttered. "I am trying. I am just busy. I've had a heavy workload lately."

Severus raised his eyebrow dubiously, and Harry got the idea that what he considered a difficult workload paled in comparison to what Severus considered difficult.

"You will re-write the essay," Severus stated decidedly.

Harry frowned. He did not appreciate being treated as though he had done something wrong when he had made a simple mistake. Everyone slipped up every once in awhile, right? Still, he was here with a purpose, and so he simply nodded his agreement and said, "Sorry," with what he felt was the appropriate amount of shame.

Severus did not immediately acknowledge the boy's apology. He continued to watch his son with bright eyes, as though evaluating Harry's level of sincerity and deciding on his response. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and Harry, uncomfortable under his scrutiny, began to play with his hands in his lap.

"If you want," offered Harry carefully, as the silence was becoming a little too stifling, "I could come back a little later—"

"That's quite alright," Severus responded shortly, though he still looked pensive. "Actually, I had been planning on calling you down here anyway, once I had finished my work for the evening."

Normally, Harry would have been happy to hear that his presence was welcome. However, there was a foreboding lilt to Snape's voice that told him this was not what he had meant.

"Well," Harry said hesitantly, "why _did _you want to see me?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "We've covered quite a bit of it," he said vaguely, touching his fingers together. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders. "It is unimportant at the moment. Do I gather correctly that there are more pressing matters you wish to attend to?"

"I'm sorry?" asked Harry, not wanting to act on assumption.

"You came to speak to me for a reason, did you not?" replied Severus, eyebrows lifting to form an expression Harry had become very familiar with over the years. "I had assumed this was not merely a social call."

"Ah," was all Harry had to say in response. Again, he fidgeted uncomfortably. After a moment of indecision, he rose to his feet. "No, it isn't."

Harry began to pace as he spoke. "I've been thinking a lot about what I'm to be up against in the next year."

As he paused, Harry's gaze flickered to Severus, who nodded in prompt.

"Once we use the potion to break the connection between Voldemort and me, I've got to get to him before he can complete the Asterisus."

"Certainly."

"Even more importantly, we need to know how long we have until that happens, and we need to ensure that he has no idea what we are working on."

"I'm glad to see you grasp the enormity of the situation," Severus stated somewhat dryly.

"I do," said Harry, starting to feel uncomfortable as he moved on to the topic he really wanted to discuss. "which is why I've begun to realize that I need to be a more active participant in everything that is going on."

Severus raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"For the last several months, I've let you make most of the decisions. When you and Dumbledore decided that Occlumency was a necessity, I learned. When you proposed this potion, I gave no argument. When you decided to trust Malfoy, I agreed. However," and this was when Severus' expression darkened, realizing the direction in which Harry was headed, "considering how much each of these decisions affects me—especially regarding Malfoy—well, I have to tell you that I _really _think it is a mistake."

Seemingly shocked into silence by the abruptness of this comment, Severus stared at Harry with a dumbfounded expression... which was not an expression that looked normal on the Potion Master's stern face. After a moment in which Severus said nothing, however, and continued to stare at Harry with an expression of disbelief, Harry realized that he was not so much confused by what Harry had said as appalled that he had actually said it.

Promptly, Harry sat.

"Listen," he said in a rush, attempting to fend off Severus' harsh glare, "I ran into him today, and I know what you told me... but he was acting so strange, I thought I should tell you."

Severus took a deep breath and sat back in his chair, splaying his long fingers as he said, "And what is it that concerned you so?"

Bolstered, Harry continued. "I ran into him in the corridor, and he said something that disturbed me. _Do you have any idea what _he_ will do if _he_ hears I have been speaking to you_," Harry repeated, pointedly. "Malfoy has been looking worse and worse, as I am sure you have noticed. He's not sleeping, he's not eating, he looks constantly worn out; Voldemort has chosen him, I'm sure of it."

"You are aware," said Severus, narrowing his eyes, "that we had thought this would happen. That fact should not come as a surprise to you. Malfoy is the obvious choice."

"I _do _realize that, yes," replied Harry, annoyed by his Father's acerbity. "But if that is true, shouldn't he have come to one of us by now? Shouldn't he already be giving us some of the information that he promised?"

"What makes you so certain that he hasn't?" asked Severus, raising an eyebrow. "What causes you to believe you must take this into your own hands to gain results?"

"Well, for one," Harry said stiffly, "_you _told me you would tell me about those sorts of things."

"So I did," replied Severus.

"Yes."

"So, as I have told you that I would handle the situation appropriately, why is it that you have taken it upon yourself to go after him when I expressly forbade it?"

"I didn't take anything upon myself," Harry argued. "Malfoy approached _me._"

Severus was already beginning to respond, but promptly cut himself off as Harry finished speaking. His brows furrowed and he stared at Harry curiously. "He did?" he asked shortly, seeming somewhat taken aback.

"Yes."

Severus didn't speak for a moment; he settled back and kept his gaze on Harry. "Today?" he asked, after a moment.

"Yes. I was in the corridor on the fourth floor doing my homework, and Malfoy came along. When I asked if he was alright, he told me to bugger off. It went from there, as you can imagine."

Frowning, Severus sat forward in his chair and, watching Harry carefully, said, "Harry, I feel compelled to tell you that you are not my first visitor this evening."

As if his father had spelled it there, a hard lump instantly formed in Harry's throat, hitching his breath and making his mouth run dry. So Kinnaird had reached him quicker than he had expected. Hermione had not been successful, after all. Quickly, he spoke.

"Listen, I know what Kinnaird may have told you, but it's because he is trying to win your approval—"

"Kinnaird?" Severus asked, interrupting Harry. His brow furrowed and his eyes seemed, if it was at all possible, to take on an even deeper shade of onyx.

Again, Harry felt that he was at a loss for words.

"Harry," Severus snapped, seemingly angered further by Harry's lack of response. "Kinnaird?"

"Yes," Harry said meekly. The jig, as they say, was truly up. "I thought—well, he was there, and I thought he had come to speak to you. I had told him I would tell you myself, but..."

"How interesting," Severus said slowly, though his tone of voice did not suggest mere interest. He rose from his seat, and Harry unconsciously shrunk into his own. Severus came around to stand in front of the desk, leaning against it and staring hard down at Harry.

"_Malfoy _came to see me this evening, not Kinnaird. He seemed to view the events with quite a different perspective."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, though he had an idea of what Malfoy might have said.

"He asked me to remind you of how important it is that the Dark Lord hears nothing of Malfoy's involvement with us," said Severus. His expression unwavering, he added dryly, "He is under the impression that you are given to fits of impulsiveness which might give him away."

"But, I told you, I didn't mean to—"

"Harry, enough," said Severus firmly, obviously irritated. "How is it that Kinnaird came upon you two, I wonder?"

"I—" Harry began to respond, and promptly stopped as Severus pursed his lips in frustration.

"Your friends went to get help when they noticed you following Malfoy, yes or no?"

_How do you know that? _Harry thought furiously, though he nodded defeatedly.

"Otherwise, Kinnaird never would have arrived," Severus deduced, answering Harry's unasked question.

Harry scowled. Severus folded one arm over the other and glared down at his son. "I'm waiting."

"For what?" Harry half exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know," Severus replied in mock earnest. "I suppose you could apologize for overtly _lying _to me. You could apologize for thinking I was daft enough to _be _lied to. Perhaps you could explain exactly what you thought you would accomplish by directly _defying _my orders. Any of those would do just fine."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, and was displeased as even he heard the whine in his voice. "But don't you find his behaviour even a little suspicious? Aren't you concerned about the information he could give to Voldemort?"

"I am constantly concerned, Harry," replied Severus, "But that does not give either of us an excuse to act rashly. In fact, you should be even more aware of how important my instruction is considering the delicate nature of these issues. Do you not trust my judgment? Do you consider me unqualified to make good decisions? I assure you, my experience in these matters far exceeds your own, though I understand that at sixteen years of age, you feel quite justified to take matters into your own hands."

Severus' words stung, but Harry kept his expression even, careful not to show it. It was not that he didn't trust his father's judgment; far from that, he understood that he was certainly the authority when it came to such important judgment calls. However, he could not deny that his own curiosity and concern caused him to disregard what he was told. Years of being held at an arm's length by the adults surrounding him made him feel as though he had to seek out information when it was not constantly being provided. Unease over what his future held and a need to control whatever part of that future he could overrode his trust in others to make better decisions than he was able to. In short, while he trusted his father, he put more stock in first-hand knowledge more than he did in blind faith.

"I _do _trust you," Harry said in a low voice, grudgingly. Severus looked dubious. "What?" said Harry incredulously, "I do! But you haven't exactly been forthcoming with information lately; of course when the opportunity presented itself I had to find out what I could. I didn't do anything rash—"

Severus' opened his mouth, undoubtedly to object, but Harry didn't give him the chance to interrupt. "—_that _rash, anyway, not how you are making it seem. I'll admit; I intended to test Malfoy when I saw him in the corridor. I did. I wanted to know why he has been so scarce and, like I said, it is obvious what he has been up to. But what I don't understand is why _you _have been so quiet on the subject. I thought perhaps you hadn't realized that our situation had taken a turn, and when I tried to ask you about it—"

"I told you _exactly _what I knew to be true, which is _nothing_!"

At Severus' outburst, Harry immediately stopped speaking and stared up at his father. He could see that the older man was through holding his tongue; he had no desire to provoke him any further.

"I told you that what I knew was mere speculation, _because it was true_," Severus ground out with great annoyance. "I forbid you to speak to Malfoy because, as you say, it is quite obvious what the boy is going through; but consider, at this delicate time, antagonizing him is exactly what we must avoid. When he is ready, and when he feels it is safe, he may come to us—"

"But he hasn't—"

"_Or _he may not," Severus said, raising his voice above Harry's and effectively drowning him out. "But I trust that he will not reveal anything truly important to the Dark Lord. Whether he chooses to risk himself or not, I cannot tell what he will decide. However, I am certain he does not wish to damn himself should we defeat his temporary Master. That, at least, he has made clear. Understand, Harry, that the Dark Lord is testing him heavily at this time. He at least deserves to have peace while he is among us; eventually, he may see that we offer him far more than the other side."

"So, now you, what, feel _bad _for him?" Harry asked, his face contorted with a mixture of disgust and confusion.

Unaffectedly, his father replied, "You don't?"

Harry's first reaction was to scoff at this rhetorical question. He crossed his arms and averted his gaze, eyes searching the room for something to focus on. He could not believe that his own Father was more concerned over Malfoy than him. After all, Malfoy had made the decision to yield to Voldemort; Harry had never been given a choice. In addition to that, Malfoy had done this under the pretence that he was doing it in order to help them... now, it was unclear what his motives were, and everyone was just standing by and watching it happen. Aurors undoubtedly allowed him to sneak out of the castle at night in order to fulfil his duties to Voldemort. The Headmaster had undoubtedly given the orders to do so. Teachers allowed him to slide on his studies, while they became even more heavy-handed with Harry.

It was pure, unadulterated injustice.

Harry did not appreciate it.

Still, Harry kept these thoughts to himself. He knew exactly what Severus would say were he to level these accusatory thoughts at him; he would tell Harry that he was being immature, that he just needed to trust him. Well, Harry was not interested in being told these things. In fact, at the moment, he was primarily interested in leaving. His friends would sympathize with the unfairness of it all.

"I am going to repeat," Severus was saying, and Harry returned his attention to the man in front of him, "that you must not approach Malfoy, under any circumstances. And if I hear again that you have, you may be certain that I will find more inventive ways to keep you from breaking your word to me. In addition to that, I had better not receive any more reports of skiving off homework. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said glumly, aware that their meeting was coming to an end and dejected over the fact that it had diverted so far from the path he had intended it take.

"Good," replied Severus, though Harry thought privately that his father did not seem satisfied. Harry stared resolutely at the ground, drawing shapes with the toe of his foot on the hard stone floor. Several moments passed this way, and finally Harry was aware that Severus had moved away from him and resumed his seat behind his desk.

"I had rather wished," said Severus stiffly, as he pulled a stack of ungraded papers in front of him and began marking, "that we could pass the evening more pleasantly. I regret that such was not the case."

Harry wasn't sure what Severus had intended Harry to feel by that remark, but primarily, he felt guilt. Stubbornly, he pushed that thought away and shrugged his shoulders, though his Father wasn't looking at him.

"I suggest," continued Severus, his concentration now seemly devoted to the task of grading, "that you make your way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. Kinnaird will be arriving shortly, and I seriously doubt you wish to run into him for a second time today."

About that, Severus was correct. Harry rolled his eyes to himself. With each passing day, he grew to resent Kinnaird a little bit more. He was unsure if it were the man's constant need to gain Severus' approval, or the way he treated Harry as much younger than he felt. Either way, Harry was glad to comply with Severus' suggestion.

Feeling an odd mixture of relief and dejection as he left the office, Harry muttered his goodbye and moved quickly down the dungeon corridor. Though he had been frustrated by their meddling earlier, he now found himself hoping that his friends would be waiting to hear of his harrowing experience. Just to be able to say everything he had not been able to say to his Father would be relieving, at the very least.

Just as he was about to turn the corner that would lead him to the stairway, footsteps coming down the hallway stopped him in his tracks. It was not incredibly late, but now that he thought of it, he wasn't sure of the time, and he had foolishly forgotten to obtain a pass from Severus. The Aurors who now frequented the halls were not always friendly, nor were they forgiving, when it came to catching students out after the considerably early curfew. Harry pressed himself against the wall, hoping the footsteps would pass quickly by.

As they drew nearer, Harry realized that not one set of feet, but two, were treading quickly towards the stairs. Harry remained where he stood, and quickly, the noise moved past him and up the stairs. Waiting a moment for the footsteps to become more distant, Harry decided it was safe to resume his walk to the common room.

The small rush of adrenaline he had experienced from hiding from the perceived threat slowly left Harry as he trudged up the stairs. He hadn't noticed how harshly the day had worn on him; he now found himself mortally exhausted, emotionally drained, and somewhat defeated. He had felt so confident that his father would take him seriously when he told him his suspicions about Malfoy. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what had given him that idea.

As Harry reached the top of the stairs, the heavy groan of the great doors in the entrance hall caught Harry's attention. He stopped under the arch of the doorway, and saw that the two figures he had narrowly avoided running into in the dungeons had not carried on down another corridor, as he had assumed; instead, the two hooded men were leaving the castle.

In an instant, as one spoke quietly to the other, Harry realized what he was witnessing; before his very eyes, Kinnaird and Malfoy were together exiting the castle, almost certainly answering a summons. Harry visually searched the room and saw that he was alone.

With difficulty, Harry bit back on the impulse to follow the two. He reminded himself: the fact that these two were pledging loyalty to both sides was not a secret. In fact, after speaking with his Father about this very fact, he was certain that he shouldn't have been surprised by this at all.

The idea of watching Malfoy, who had angered him so deeply earlier today and whose loyalty was becoming increasingly questionable, unabashedly walk out the doors to consort with Harry's enemies, was unfathomable to Harry. Still, he reminded himself that there was little he could do about it at this moment.

Harry briefly considered returning to Severus' office. At the very least, he could enlighten Severus of the fact that Kinnaird would not be attending their arranged meeting. At the most, perhaps Severus would tell him if he knew anything about why they had been summoned. Surely, either he or Dumbledore would have some idea of why these two had been leaving the castle.

As Harry turned this thought over in his head, he weighed the possible outcomes. He could very easily see his Father reprimanding him for lingering in the entrance hall to see what was happening. He also considered the mood he had left the man in; he was tense, irascible, and would probably balk at the insinuation that Harry could possibly have something of value to say about Malfoy.

No, Harry would let him figure it out himself, if he didn't already know.

With that thought, Harry speedily crossed the entrance hall, still aware of the fact that he was most likely breaking curfew. He made his way up to the Gryffindor Common Room without further ado, and once the Fat Lady had allowed him to pass, he was glad to see Hermione and Ron sitting together on the sofa, apparently awaiting his arrival.

At least _someone _took his concerns seriously enough to want to hear what he had to say.

"How did it go?" asked Hermione hopefully, closing the book on her lap and turning her full attention to Harry.

"Well," said Harry heavily, "certainly not as well as I had planned."

And that, Harry thought to himself, was a gross understatement.

xxx

It took approximately fifteen minutes past Harry's departure for Severus to give up on grading the horrific third-year essays. He had tried in vain to focus his energy on something productive, but his encounter with Harry had simply been too strenuous for him to continue working.

When Malfoy had visited him earlier that day, he had been hopeful that the boy was finally turning to him for help. Yes, it had been obvious for some time now that the pressures of his life outside of the castle were having a detrimental impact on him even while he was in the school. And, yes, he had to agree with Harry, it was almost certain that his weariness was not merely a product of the usual rigors of being a simple up and coming Death Eater; clearly, Voldemort had chosen him for a far greater task.

If he were able to reach Malfoy, if he were able to convince him that he could help, this boded well for the side of the light. The great trust the Dark Lord appeared to place in Malfoy's abilities meant the boy might serve him far more efficiently than Kinnaird would ever be able to. Of course, Dumbledore would demand that Severus continue to help him as well, but Severus could convince him that they ought to keep more information from him. Strangely, the more Kinnaird tried to gain his approval, the more Severus felt inclined to distrust him. He simply seemed to _want _it too badly.

All of this was wasted thought, of course, now that Harry seemed to have pushed Malfoy even farther away. The fair-headed boy seemed even more fearful of helping them now than he had before; it seemed that Harry's proclivity to compulsiveness had more than rubbed him the wrong way. Now, Severus would have to work even harder to convince him to keep his word, all while convincing Harry that they must keep their trust in him, even when all the evidence suggested otherwise.

The truth was, Malfoy was the better choice over Kinnaird because he was still mouldable as a spy. Kinnaird was too old; his own motives already took precedent over whatever either side was telling him. Whatever Kinnaird's ambition was, it was for his own purposes. Of that, Severus was absolutely sure.

Malfoy, on the other hand, still didn't seem to have made up his mind. His actions earlier in the year suggested to Severus that he also had his own motives, but his were geared towards survival, and a less controlled life. Severus had hope that once the Dark Lord was sure he had his hold on Malfoy, his treatment would progress to a level sure to push Malfoy in the opposite direction.

Yes, Severus felt Harry had created a much more difficult situation for him. While he could understand the boy's need for information, he begrudged him for his lack of judgment concerning such delicate issues.

At long last, a heavy-handed knock on the door interrupted Severus' thoughts. Truth be told, he was glad for the distraction, even if it were such an unpleasant one. He glanced at the wall; their meeting had been scheduled for five minutes earlier, but it was just as well that he'd had the extra time. Still, he wouldn't let Kinnaird know this.

Severus pushed himself up from his chair and moved fluidly to the door, swinging it open to the dark hallway.

"Ah, yes, Kinnaird," Severus said long-sufferingly, stepping back to allow the other man entrance. As his thin lips curled into a smirk, he said silkily, "You're late."

Kinnaird stepped through the door, and though he seemed annoyed by Severus' assessment, he replied easily, "My apologies. I'm afraid I got lost in a rather good book and hadn't realized how quickly the time had passed."

"Yes, well," Severus said in response, caring very little for this excuse, "I suggest we not waste any time exchanging pleasantries. We have much to cover. Take a seat."

And with that, Severus swung the door shut, and an audible bang echoed through the corridor outside.

**xxx End Chapter 45 xxx**

**AN:** It has been so very long! I am so happy that I have written this chapter and I plan to keep writing. Sometimes inspiration is quite lacking but I really would like to finish what I started.

Thank you so much to every old and new reader who has inspired me to finish this story. Your words of encouragement over time have convinced me that this is a project worth pursuing once again.

Thank you to Dawn for looking over this chapter for me.

Not to talk your ears off, but I feel compelled to tell you a few things. One, I have tried to respond to everyone who has reviewed over the past several months; however, some of you have your PM feature disabled and I was unable to respond.

Please join my yahoo group, I will let you know how my most recent chapters are going and may occasionally ask for some advice or inspiration. I will also answer questions if anyone has any.

Please also let me know what you think of this chapter! I like to know that people are still reading and also, I hope that it measures up to what you all deserve :-)


	46. Affirmation

Chapter 46

Affirmation

xxx

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Harry sat at the Gryffindor table rearranging his food around his plate as he contemplated the coming day. Involuntarily, his gaze kept flickering to the head table; his father was conspicuously absent from breakfast. Harry heaved a sigh and rested his head on his knuckles.

Harry's frustration with his father had not faded with a night's sleep; what had occurred was the blossoming of a new kind of anxiety, a question of what he might do when he saw his father again. They had not had a fight. His Father had not been unduly harsh. However, his lack of concern for what Harry saw as a subject requiring a great deal of attention was unnerving. Harry could not shake the thought that when he next saw the man, he would not know what to say.

He wanted to tell him to bugger off.

Except that he valued his life.

Without ever deciding to, Harry huffed in aggravation, shaking his head and throwing his fork down. He looked at the head table again. No Severus.

"Mate, stop thinking about it, you're only working yourself up," Ron said with an assumed air of wisdom that Harry couldn't help but be irritated by. Apparently, Ron got the hint as Harry threw him a look of annoyance; he promptly returned his attention to his breakfast, but not before shrugging his shoulders and looking helplessly at Hermione.

"Harry," Hermione hedged, as though she were testing the waters before continuing.

"Yeah?" Harry replied dispassionately, resuming the chase of his breakfast around the circumference of the plate.

Hermione's eyebrows knit together fretfully, but she gave him a small smile. "He will be here soon, and then you will go talk to him, and you will see that he's not even thinking about what happened last night."

Harry wanted to laugh derisively, but Ron beat him to it. The redhead choked and sputtered for a minute, pounding on his chest to clear his throat of inhaled bits of mash, and then he shook his head emphatically. "No," he said simply, and cleared his throat again. "No. Hermione, have you met Snape?"

"We are acquainted, yes," Hermione said evenly, staring sideways at Ron through narrowed eyes.

"Right, well, Harry, don't listen to her," Ron advised seriously, and Harry had to be amused at Hermione's gasp of indignation. Ignoring her, Ron added needlessly, "She's a girl."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione questioned, color rising into her cheeks.

"Nothing, except you don't know what you're talking about," Ron replied, and Harry thought for a moment that he was about to be socked in the face, when he added, "No offense."

"Ronald, I don't know how in the world you imagine that was not offensive."

"Well, I don't mean it personally," Ron explained, and Harry laughed out loud now. "Just that girls always think the solution's to talk about everything." Ron paused to roll his eyes and look at Harry for affirmation. Harry shrugged. "But, sometimes, you just have to wait for everything to smooth over on its own."

"That's idiotic," Hermione responded confidently, though she didn't offer Harry any more advice. Apparently, she'd endured enough for the moment.

"Well, it doesn't matter anyway," Harry said as he stared up the table again. "He's still not here."

"It's early," Hermione said, pushing her plate to the side and pulling an essay out of her bag. She began reading it over, chewing her quill absent-mindedly.

"It's rude to do homework at the breakfast table," Ron teased, and winced as Hermione kicked him under the table without even looking up.

Harry shook his head at his friend and finally forced himself to take a bite of his food. "Maybe we should just head to the library," he said as he watched the door for his Father's entrance, starting to feel a twinge of regret; he wished that he could at least see Severus in order to get a gage of how he was feeling.

"You're bonkers," Ron said, taking another biscuit from the middle of the tables.

"Maybe," Harry agreed.

"Harry, why don't you just take a walk down to his office?" Hermione suggested, setting down her quill. "It would be better to get this off your mind now than to go the entire day upset."

Ron rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

"Maybe," Harry said again, looking down at his plate. He stabbed a piece of breakfast sausage and ate without even tasting it.

"I'll go with you," Hermione offered tentatively. "That way, if he is there and you don't feel like talking to him, I can make some sort of excuse."

"Yeah, okay," Harry said compliantly, knowing deep down that if he didn't face his anxiety now, it would plague him from now until he went to bed.

Harry pushed himself up from the table and Hermione repacked her essay away in her bag. Then, turning to their friend, who was continuing to eat his breakfast as though he hadn't noticed they were leaving, Hermione asked exasperatedly, "Are you coming, Ron?"

"No," Ron said, as though it should be obvious. "Good luck to you two, though."

With a huff, Hermione was already walking away.

"If you don't come, I'm going to hear about it the whole way down there."

"Ah, you'll be fine," Ron said cheerfully. "Tell her I stayed behind to collect your post, or something."

"Ron, I don't get post."

"Still."

Again, Harry shook his head at his friend. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he turned and followed Hermione out of the great hall.

"He is unbelievable," Hermione said to Harry as soon as they were alone, making their way down the stairs to the dungeons. "I don't know what I'm talking about _because I'm a girl_?"

Harry chuckled nervously, half because he wasn't sure what to say to his friend, and half because he was truly nervous to see Severus. Hermione let out a final growl of frustration, but said no more on the subject as they came to Severus' office.

Before Harry had time to hesitate, Hermione reached forward and rapped her knuckles against Snape's office door. Looking over at Harry, she gave him an encouraging smile.

Harry felt his stomach churn with anxiety, and he contemplated what he would say when his Father opened the door. Would he allow Hermione to make some sort of excuse for why they were there? Would he simply ask him if he had a moment to talk? Should he explain how frustrated he felt at his Father's lack of understanding the night before?

"I don't think he's here," Hermione said, breaking through Harry's stream of thoughts. Still, she knocked again.

Harry frowned. If his Father wasn't at breakfast, and he wasn't here, where could he be?

"Hermione… you don't think—"

At that moment, rapid footsteps falling upon the stone caught both Harry and Hermione's attention. They could hear loud, clumsy running, and down the corridor, a red mop of hair was bobbing up and down atop Ron Weasley's head.

"I thought you weren't coming," Hermione said stiffly as he came to a graceless halt in front of them. He huffed a few times, and shook his head, ignoring her comment.

Turning to Harry, Ron said irritably, "_I don't get post _my arse. You do, and it was delivered by a great bloody bat!"

Harry frowned and took the envelope from Ron's extended hand. On the front of the envelope was his name, scrawled in Snape's spiky black script. He looked back up at Ron.

"Ron… did you just call my Father a great bloody bat?"

"Yes," answered Ron matter-of-factly.

Hermione looked as though she might kick him again.

Without hesitation, Harry ripped open the sealed envelope.

_Harry, _the note began,

_Because I have very important matters to attend to this morning, I do not have time to explain until later what our plans for this weekend will entail. Please come to my office during your lunch period, and instruct Miss Granger to come during her free period immediately after. There is much work to be done over the next several days. _

_SS _

"He handed this to you?" Harry asked Ron, confused about why his Father had been so late to breakfast and why on earth he had written him a letter instead of simply seeking him out himself.

"Yes," Ron replied, and sounded as though he deeply wished that were not the case. "And he was _not _in a pleasant mood."

"Probably because he was forced to talk to you," remarked Hermione from the side, and it was Ron's turn to look indignant.

xxx

The closer Harry came to Severus' office, the slower his pace became. A small amount of trepidation was working its way into Harry's thoughts as he made his way down the dungeon corridor. Initially, he had felt a sense of relief at hearing from his Father, simply for the fact that it had cured him of the worry he felt for the older man when he didn't appear at breakfast. However, the ambiguous nature of his missive now had him guessing at what they might discuss while he was there. Furthermore, his request to see him and Hermione separately worried him. Would his Father unleash a diatribe of things he had not thought to say at the time of their discussion but that had built up over a night of restlessness? Should Harry pretend that nothing had happened the night previous until the man brought it to attention?

Either way, he knew that he had to face whatever outcome was in store for him. As he approached the office, he was surprised to see the door already propped open. An open door suggested that visitors were welcome; that the person inside did not mind being disturbed. These things were almost never true of the Potions Master.

Halting at the entrance, purely out of habit, Harry tapped his knuckles against the door before stepping completely into the office.

"Come in," came Severus' voice from around the corner.

Harry stepped inside and looked around for the older man. Per usual, he was sitting at his desk, paying rapt attention to whatever papers he had in front of him. Harry's first observation was that he looked more worn down than usual; his normally pale skin looked even more sallow than usual, the circles under his eyes had a hollow look to them, and his expression was drawn into a tight, hard frown as he wrote rapidly.

"Close the door behind you," Severus commanded, and Harry inwardly cringed at the lack of warmth in his voice.

Slowly, as though it would buy him some more time to brace himself, Harry pushed the door shut.

"Take a seat," said Severus, now wrapping up what he had been working on and shuffling the papers back into an organized stack, which he placed on the side of his desk. Harry did as he was told. Severus folded his hands before him as he watched his son sink into the chair, and nodded towards the small plate of sandwiches he had set out. "Are you hungry?"

Harry nodded and took the proffered sandwich.

"I had guessed you would be," said Severus needlessly, "considering I interrupted your lunch."

"S'alright," Harry mumbled, stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. Then, he was surprised to see the side of his Father's mouth quirk upwards, ever so slightly.

Severus allowed Harry to eat in silence for the next few minutes, and when he was finished, vanished the plate from his desk. "Satisfactory?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry replied, dusting crumbs off the front of his shirt. "So…what did you want to see me about?"

"Several things," Severus responded promptly, leaning back in his chair. "Firstly, I will need to do quite a bit of work back at the house this weekend. Do you think that you and Miss Granger will be able to spare some time to accompany me?"

"Yes," replied Harry, though there was a note of question in his voice. "Though, I'm not sure I will be much help to you."

"I have some other tasks I will set you to," Severus answered, and Harry groaned inwardly. "At any cost, you should attend for propriety's sake."

Staring for a moment at his Father's stiff black robes, buttoned up to his chin, Harry personally thought that even without his presence, his Father was at least the very epitome of propriety, but he did not say so.

"Secondly," said Severus, and Harry thought he was moving on rather quickly, "I thought we should discuss the events of yesterday."

Ah, there it was. Glancing longingly back at the door, Harry briefly wished that it was still open, ready for him to escape.

"I think perhaps I did not make myself clear enough during our conversation last night."

Harry wanted to protest that Severus had been _more _than clear enough and cut off the coming lecture, but he could not picture that scenario unfolding in his favour. Instead, he folded one arm under the other and waited.

"I suppose I was rather harsh on you," Severus said, and he seemed to read Harry's body language correctly. Surprised, Harry looked up at him.

"You were a bit, yeah," Harry found himself agreeing, only because he could not stop himself. To his further amazement, his Father's hard expression softened slightly.

"Harry," said Severus, and Harry got the idea that he was carefully choosing his words before he went on, "I did not mean to give you the impression that I was dismissing your concerns. Rather, I was upset about the rashness of your actions. I was frustrated that you had not trusted me enough to listen when I warned you to leave Malfoy alone. Lastly, I was disturbed by the possibility that you had caused Malfoy to lose even more faith in our ability to help him. However, I do appreciate the enormity of the pressure you are under. I comprehend the reasons behind your constant need for information…and I apologize for failing to answer your questions about him adequately when you first asked."

Harry wasn't exactly sure how to respond to this, but for some reason, he felt even worse about his actions now that his Father explained his thoughts to him this way.

"That being said," Severus continued when Harry gave no reply, "I stand by my warning to stay away from Malfoy. It is imperative that you adhere to the rules I set down, no matter how little you understand my reasoning behind them. I open my door to you should you wish to question me more thoroughly; what I do not encourage is blatantly ignoring my wishes. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry responded dutifully. "And I didn't mean to ignore you—"

"But you did," Severus reminded him ungraciously.

"I know," Harry said agitatedly, annoyed at being interrupted, "But it wasn't as though I set out to defy you. I just found myself in a situation that I thought was to my advantage and didn't realize that I was causing any harm."

Harry watched as Severus' expression turned dubious and he raised a hand to run through his hair. "I don't wish to offend you," said his Father carefully, "but I can't think of a time when you disregarded advice and didn't cause harm."

"That's an exaggeration," Harry insisted.

"I daresay that it is, on the contrary, an understatement."

Harry narrowed his eyes at his Father, not sure how to argue his point other than to fix him with a good dark stare. Severus returned the glare, though Harry got the idea that he was being mocked.

"Well," said Harry, "I at least avoided getting into trouble on the way back to the common room last night."

"Did many opportunities present themselves?" asked Severus dryly.

"Actually, yes," Harry said with a look of satisfaction on his face. However, Severus did not look pleasantly surprised by this information; quite the opposite, his glare took on an aspect of seriousness not formerly present.

"What do you mean?" Severus inquired sharply.

All at once, Harry was aware of the grave turn their conversation had taken. He had not spoken with the intent to instigate another argument regarding Harry's proclivity to keeping tabs on Malfoy, but he now sensed that was the direction in which it was heading.

"Don't be angry," Harry warned, and Severus tilted his head and lifted his eyebrows as if to suggest this was not the preface Harry should have lead with.

Taking a deep breath, Harry started again. "I thought that I heard Aurors coming down the corridor last night after I left your office, so I was simply trying to stay out of trouble when I hid. But then, because of that, I ended up coming to the entrance hall just in time to see Malfoy and Kinnaird leaving. I was going to come back here and tell you that you probably shouldn't expect Kinnaird, but I was so frustrated—"

Suddenly, Severus held up his hand in a silencing gesture. Slowly, he asked, for the second time in twenty-four hours, "_Kinnaird_? You are certain?"

"Without a doubt," Harry said, thinking back to the night before. No, there had been no doubt about the two; they had certainly been Malfoy and Kinnaird. Getting an inkling of why Severus was so concerned, Harry frowned and gave him a questioning look.

Severus pursed his lips and murmured softly, folding his hands in his lap and apparently taking a long moment for thought. Afraid to interrupt whatever his Father was formulating to say, Harry stayed quiet.

"Kinnaird arrived for our meeting last night," Severus finally said; he still had a far-away look, as though he were considering the reasons for this.

"He did?" Harry asked, half alarmed, half confused as to why Severus didn't seem more anxious himself.

Slowly, Severus nodded thoughtfully. "Yes…he was late."

"We need to go to Dumbledore!" Harry blurted out, and then immediately tried to calm himself down as Severus barely spared him a glance.

"Not yet," said Severus, now sitting forward and pulling a sheet of blank parchment out of his desk. "Harry, what is your last class today?"

"Defense against the Dark Arts," said Harry, confusedly. "Why?"

"You are doing well in that class," Severus said in way of statement, beginning to scribble furiously. "Do you have any more classes to attend?"

"Well, one, after this…"

"Go to that class," Severus instructed quickly, handing Harry the pass he had written out. "I will stay here to speak with Miss Granger, and when you are finished, you and I are going to go pay Kinnaird a visit."

"We are?" Harry asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," said Severus. "I would like to hear what he has to say for himself, and you are the perfect person to facilitate that conversation."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Kinnaird thinks you are rather more of a child than you are… You can easily ask him exactly what he was doing, and he will not judge you for your lack of subtlety or think anything suspicious of it."

"You're using me," Harry said accusatorily.

"Don't be so sensitive," Severus said sardonically, and Harry scowled. "You wish to be a more active participant in Order matters, yes or no?"

"Yes," Harry admitted grudgingly.

"Well, then this is the role you will have to play, for now," said Severus with a sense of finality, rising from his desk to walk Harry to the door.

"Alright," Harry said uncertainly, following his Father. "If you say so… but then you can't be upset with me if I say something wrong."

"I have faith in you," Severus said dryly, opening the door.

Oddly, Harry felt a bit of warmth at this admission, despite the teasing manner in which it was stated.

xxx

Harry spent most of his next class fidgeting in his seat, imagining various ways the coming hour would play out for him and his Father. More than once, he was called upon in class without knowing what he had been asked. More than once, he worried whether Professor Binns would tell Severus about his lack of attention.

Still, despite the looming threat of a harsh reprimand, Harry could not keep his attention on his ghostly Professor. He could not dedicate more than several minutes of uninterrupted thought on the mundane subject of History of Magic. He could only try to contain the mixture of excitement and nervousness he felt at the imminent encounter between himself, Severus, and Kinnaird.

When the bell finally rang, Harry practically jumped from his seat to rush into the corridor before the onslaught of students could emerge from their respective classrooms and slow him down. He made his way quickly down the many flights of stairs to the dungeons, and arrived at his Father's door almost out of breath from the haste with which he had traveled.

Severus was waiting for him when he arrived, and emerged from his office almost the moment Harry's knuckles had grazed the rough wooden surface of the door.

"Is Kinnaird expecting us?" Harry asked as he traipsed down the corridor after Severus, who was moving rather quickly for his taste.

"He is expecting to see me," replied Severus. "I think he shall be surprised to see you, however."

"Surprised?" Harry said questioningly. He had sat in on many of the training sessions between Severus and Kinnaird; this shouldn't have been out of the norm.

"You are supposed to be in class, remember?" Severus reminded him.

"Oh… right," Harry said. "How are we going to explain that?"

"Kinnaird isn't going to have time to question it," Severus said nonchalantly, though there was something menacing about his tone which Harry could not quite place. "Nevertheless, I will simply say that I pulled you from class for reasons beyond his concern."

Harry was surprised Severus didn't have a rather more developed plan for this encounter, but he suspected that his Father's arrogance about his ability to maneuver a conversation was the main reason for that. Without challenging him any further, he followed him until at last they had reached the Room of Requirement.

Confidently, Severus paced past the entrance three times, and without preface, Severus walked through the door, Harry following closely behind him.

"Kinnaird," Severus greeted the other man immediately upon arrival. His voice was neither warm nor cold; it was one of even indifference, neither giving the impression that he desired to be there nor the idea that he loathed the duty.

"Professor Snape," said Kinnaird, rising from the chair in which he had been waiting. The room was configured to allow for strenuous dueling; most of the fixtures were made of stone, and those which weren't were placed all at one end, far from the wide open space designed precisely for that purpose. In several long strides, Kinnaird crossed the room. Then, as though he hadn't seen Harry at first, he turned to him and said, "Harry! What a pleasant surprise. I had thought you would be in class today."

Instantly put off by Kinnaird's false demeanor, and unsure what to say, Harry nodded and tried to put a smile on his face.

"I thought that today would be rather beneficial for Harry to observe," Severus said coolly, moving about the room and arranging the stone benches so that they were farther away from what Harry thought of as the dueling pitch.

Harry fought the urge to throw his Father a look of annoyance. Of course, the man would just invent excuses as he went along; how very Slytherin of him. Harry, however, couldn't help but be irritated by the ease with which Severus was able to contrive stories; it made it very difficult for Harry to know how to respond to Kinnaird's queries.

Then, behind Kinnaird's back, as Severus moved the last bench with his wand, he shot Harry what the boy supposed was supposed to be meaningful look.

"Yes," Harry suddenly found himself compelled to say, and then regretted speaking when he realized he had nothing to add to that. With Kinnaird's attention focused on him, however, waiting for his next sentence, he decided he had nothing to do but to improvise. "I was rather surprised myself. I didn't think I would have the chance, after all, when I saw you leaving the castle last night."

Kinnaird's expression instantly became tense, and then melted again; Harry could tell that he was trying to look innocently confused, though it was only because Harry was so confident in what he had seen that he could see the effort behind the visage.

"I'm not sure what you mean," said Kinnaird, and he did not dare to glance back towards Severus.

"Oh, I thought you had seen me," Harry wildly invented, mimicking a look of innocence. "I was on my way back to the common room and I saw you and Malfoy leaving together—I'd rather thought I was going to be forced to go to class this afternoon, considering."

"Leaving?" asked Severus, stepping around to stand by his son's side. "You never mentioned that you had left the castle last night."

Harry was impressed by the sincerity of Severus' tone. But then, he supposed he had not been successful as a Death Eater without reason.

"Ah, yes," Kinnaird said, as though he had only just remembered leaving the castle. "Regrettably, I had to escort young Mr. Malfoy to the gates. He was called away by his father sometime earlier in the evening; I did not wish to see him leave unaccompanied. It can be rather dangerous outside the gates, these days."

He had not missed a beat. There had been no hesitation, no faltering in his speech. Still, as Severus moved again and allowed his dark eyes to connect purposefully with Harry's, Harry had no doubts; his Father was no more convinced of Kinnaird's story than Harry himself.

"How kind of you to look out for the students of this school," said Severus caustically. "Still, you might have mentioned, considering you were late to our scheduled appointment."

"I had rather wanted to avoid upsetting you," said Kinnaird smoothly. "I find that to rile you up before any meeting is always to my disadvantage."

"Quite," said Severus, though there was no sense of humour in his voice. "Harry, I suggest you take a seat," he said, positioning himself across the room and taking aim at Kinnaird. "We have little time to waste."

Quickly, Harry positioned himself on one of the benches, as Kinnaird hurried to position. Neither had expected such a quick start. And, as Severus began firing various spells in Kinnaird's direction, the other man had time only to block him, thrown back each time by the force of the spell; it was clear, Harry thought, that Severus was to use this practice in order to take out his aggression towards his perceived enemy. Harry, however, was not interested in learning any tactics from this session; instead, his thoughts had shifted to Malfoy.

_So, now you, what, feel_bad_for him?_ Harry had asked the night previous. His father had replied:_ You don't?_

As Harry thought back to breakfast in the Great Hall that morning, he could not recall seeing Malfoy. Though Kinnaird was clearly concealing something about his reason for his brief absence from the castle, Harry had a strange sense of clarity now that he thought about the story he had given; about Malfoy being called away from the castle, Kinnaird was not lying. And as Harry considered the extreme exhaustion he had seen in the other boy's face the day before, Harry _did _feel some sympathy for his position.

It occurred to Harry that though Malfoy was perhaps yet undecided in his true loyalties, he at least had one quality that Kinnaird was lacking; he had no qualms in being honest about his feelings on the matter.

xxx

Harry could not quite shake the newfound idea that Malfoy was now somebody to be pitied, not to be held in contempt, even as he made his way down to Dumbledore's office along with his Father. Of course, his thoughts were continually being punctuated by the familiar sounds of Severus grumbling under his breath; each utterance of a curse aimed at Kinnaird distracted Harry from his thoughts and forced him to refocus on the reality that they could have an even more serious problem than Malfoy's potential defection from their side: his Father's usual paranoia seemed to be leading them closer to the truth about Kinnaird than Dumbledore's blind trust. Yet the two views were on such opposite ends of the spectrum of possibility, Harry doubted whether Dumbledore would understand the concern he and his Father now shared.

But, at least he and his Father now agreed on something.

"…and this doddering old fool is so concerned with the idea of replacing me, he accepts the first novice to put in a bloody application for the job…" Severus was muttering off to the side of his son, who was dutifully standing in silence as they waited for the great stone gargoyle to reveal the revolving staircase to them.

Yes, Harry now had to agree that Dumbledore had been hasty in accepting Kinnaird into Hogwarts. This, coupled with the few Ministry designated Aurors that were now allowed to roam the halls, was making the castle more and more vulnerable to infiltration.

At least, that's what Harry had gleaned from the discernible portions of Severus' angry and half-whispered ponderings on their way there.

Luckily, by the time they had reached Dumbledore's office door, Severus had ended his monologue concerning the idiocy of those who surrounded him, and seemed resigned to keeping the appearance of a calm, respectably reserved man. Watching his Father, Harry was careful to mimic his expression. As he had most of the day, he found it best to take his Father's lead on such things.

"Ah, Severus and Harry!" Dumbledore exclaimed gaily as he opened his office door to them; without word, Severus stepped inside. With a smile that he couldn't help but offer up to the Headmaster in way of greeting, Harry followed.

With what some might consider a presumptuous demeanor, Severus moved directly toward the rather plush chairs stationed in front of Dumbledore's desk and took his seat. Then, after what appeared to be a mere second of debate, he reached forward and took one of the chocolate biscuits which Dumbledore had set out on his desk. Dumbledore, still standing in the doorway, then turned to Harry, and said genially as though he had not just watched Severus do so, "Please, have a seat."

It could never be said that the Headmaster was not gracious, Harry realized.

As Harry moved to Severus' side and sat next to him, he observed the older man churlishly chomping on one of Dumbledore's biscuits; he looked as though he were not really enjoying it, but were rather attempting to take some sort of revenge on the unsuspecting treat.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" asked Dumbledore benignly, moving behind his desk and extending the tray of biscuits to Harry, who politely accepted.

"Well," said Severus, swallowing his remaining mouthful of crumbs and folding his hands gracefully in his lap. Neither his tone nor his body language matched the dour expression firmly cemented on his face. "I would lead with, _I believe that something has gone awry with Kinnaird_, but somehow, I think that would fail to gain your attention."

Dumbledore's expression was reproving, but nevertheless, he waved his hand and said simply, "Go on."

"Harry," said Severus, nodding in his direction and taking another biscuit. Confused, Harry looked over at the man, but received no further prompting. As his Father was now busily chewing again, however, he garnered that the torch had been passed to him.

Looking at the Headmaster and swallowing reflexively, Harry launched into his explanation. "Excuse him," he said, and he knew that he sounded rather audacious, but didn't care. Avoiding his Father's surely affronted gaze, he continued, "We have just come from a rather upsetting meeting with Kinnaird."

"I have explained before," Dumbledore said tiredly, "that while the young man may seem difficult, he is still in dire need of our help, and we have a responsibility to help him."

"Pardon, sir," Harry said, surprised then by the strength of his own voice as he contradicted the elder Wizard, "but that's not what I meant. Last night, I witnessed Malfoy and Kinnaird leaving the castle, right around curfew—"

"I gave Malfoy leave for the weekend," Dumbledore interrupted, though he seemed to think he was affirming some unasked question. "And Kinnaird is an adult and may leave whenever he wishes."

"He arrived at my office shortly after this," Severus said in response; Harry was given the impression that he had been waiting to make a dramatic entrance into the conversation. "He arrived for his scheduled meeting with me concerning using Legilimancy against the Dark Lord, and failed to mention his reason for being late. It is essential, do you not agree, in order for us to establish trust between mentor and student, that he remain honest about his actions outside of Hogwarts?"

As though he strongly wanted to disagree, Dumbledore slowly nodded his head and began to stroke his beard. "This is true."

"And why is Voldemort requiring Malfoy's presence but not Kinnaird's?" asked Harry; Severus shot him a sharp look. "I just mean," Harry quickly explained, "if Kinnaird is doing as well as he says at gaining Voldemort's trust, what is he doing here when Malfoy is being called away?"

"It was Malfoy's family who requested his presence, not Voldemort," said Dumbledore, and Harry shook his head. Either the man was being purposefully daft in order to facilitate Malfoy's ease at gaining rank in Voldemort's circle, or he was truly getting old. However, Severus' firm grip on Harry's arm told him that he was to say no more on the subject.

"Be that as it may, Headmaster," Severus said, his tone markedly more respectful as he sensed Dumbledore's change in attitude, "it is undeniable that the Malfoy boy _has _had extensive contact with the Dark Lord, and Kinnaird has still failed to provide us with anything useful. Even more than this, he is beginning to withhold information about his activities outside of these walls. None of these are good signs, Headmaster. Certainly, even if we cannot turn him away, we can be equally as cautious as he in the disclosure of information."

As Severus finished speaking, he released Harry's arm but continued to stare purposefully at the Headmaster. Harry did the same, eagerly awaiting his response.

Sighing, Dumbledore tiredly removed his spectacles from atop his nose and placed them on his desk. He closed his eyes against the light of the office, seemingly pondering his next words. "Your reasoning is not flawed," he admitted after a long moment of silence. "You are correct; Kinnaird has not been of use to us. However, I am not yet willing to discredit him; Severus, you will continue to meet with him on a regular basis—"

Were Severus not pursing his lips so tightly, Harry was sure he would have released an audible growl of frustration.

"—but we should be careful not to reveal anything important to him. If he begins seeking information for which he should have no use, we may have to further modify our approach. However, if he is true to our cause and we do abandon him, Voldemort will surely punish him for uselessness. I do not wish to have his blood on my hands, as I am sure you do not either."

"No, I do not wish to have any blood on my hands," Severus agreed darkly. "But if I had my choice, I'd rather it be his than someone rather more important to me."

At this, Harry turned his eyes to his Father, and was surprised to see him glaring almost protectively in his direction, a look of determination hardening the lines on his already course face. Within an instant, the moment had passed, and Severus' severe gaze was resting on Dumbledore once more.

"Do not ask me to assist him in placing us in even graver danger," said Severus, rising from his seat. Harry did the same. "Sometimes, I think you forget to take this threat seriously, you have been evading it for so very long."

"What threat do you mean, Severus?" questioned Dumbledore, his voice soft, as though he were neither surprised nor angered by Severus' words. "I have agreed with you, have I not? I have made the concession that we withhold important information from the boy."

"The threat, Headmaster, lies in the fact that you still leave so much room to be proven wrong," Severus replied. "I would rather force someone to earn my trust and approval than to give one the benefit of the doubt and be made a fool of."

"And if I had—"

"Yes, yes, we've heard it before. Your optimistic nature saved me from a fate worse than death—did I ever say I was ungrateful? No," Severus answered the question for him. "However, I might remind you that when I came to you, I offered you information which may have cost me my life. I came with something to offer, and with the rigors I endured over the years, I more than earned my keep. This boy? He comes with a hollow promise, and you welcome him with open arms. You're softening in your old age, Albus. Softening considerably, and now is not the time to lose your edge."

Much to Harry's confusion, Dumbledore inclined his head and smiled softly, though he looked a bit sad. "Perhaps you are right," he admitted without difficulty, "Though I wish you would spare an old mansuch acerbity in front of impressionable youth."

Harry bristled slightly at the referral, but could not help but to simultaneously feel a twinge of regret on his Father's behalf. For once, he thought as he looked up at him, Severus seemed to have been effectively taken aback by mere words.

"My apologies, Headmaster," he replied uncomfortably. "I simply wish to stress the importance of this matter."

"You may be certain it has been stressed," Dumbledore replied; he appared sobered by Severus' harsh speech, but Harry privately thought that it was something at least that their concerns were being taken seriously. From experience, Harry knew that was not how these discussions always ended.

"Then, I believe our visit has concluded," said Severus, starting towards the door. "Oh," he said at the door, turning back to Dumbledore, "and thank you for the biscuits."

Harry turned to see the Headmaster smile and shake his head, and finally followed his Father out the door.

xxx

Severus Snape considered himself to be somewhat of a busybody. He was constantly setting himself to some sort of task; he hated to be left sitting idly for many hours at a time, at least when he didn't have a drink and a good book in his hands. Generally, he was a man who took on rather too much than too little, when he had the option.

That being said, the rapid succession of events which had filled his day had left him feeling tired, and he was quite glad now to be leaving Hogwarts for the weekend. Though he had originally planned to hurry back to Hogwarts, he was now looking forward to spending the next few days in relative solace.

His anticipation of leaving the castle, therefore, had him waiting in the entrance hall with what one might call eagerness if one were referring to anyone other than his surly self. He had already decided that today, in order to save time, they would bypass Tonk's house in favor of Apparating just outside the perimeter of his grounds. He had already decided that he could travel lightly; he brought with him only a few necessary potions supplies carried in a small bag which he could carry in his hand. He had asked his son and Miss Granger to meet him promptly after they had shared dinner in the Great Hall.

So, he had to ask himself, why exactly were they running so very late?

Ah, Severus thought to himself moments later, as he watched Harry and his companion hurrying towards him. He took note of Hermione's flushed face and his eyes fell to the rather bulky bag at her side.

His first thought was to reprimand Miss Granger for packing so many items.

His second thought was to upbraid his Gryffindor son for his lack of chivalry. Which, considering his own stance on chivalry, he was immediately surprised by.

"Harry," he scolded anyway, "why on earth is Miss Granger carrying such a heavy bag while your own hands are empty?"

Harry seemed immediately taken aback by this query, and his eyes flew to Hermione, who seemed embarrassed that anyone had taken notice of her exertion.

"I—I don't know," Harry stuttered lamely, and then belatedly reached and tugged Hermione's bag from her shoulder, almost causing her to topple over in the process.

"Oh, give it here," said Severus irritably, and his son bashfully did as he was instructed. Sliding his wand gracefully out of the sleeve in which it had been tucked, he shrunk Hermione's bag to a portion of its former size and handed it back to her. "I must say, Miss Granger, I am rather surprised to see you did not think to do this yourself."

"Well," said Hermione belatedly, eyeing the bag with a measure of hesitancy, "I wasn't sure if the new stirring rod I brought should be shrunk, due to the magical properties, and I had packed it rather carefully…"

Severus felt a twinge of regret for having mocked her, but didn't let it show on his face. "I'm certain it will be quite alright," he said, somewhat acerbically, and handed her back the now much lighter sack of possessions.

With little more than another glance at the two adolescents in front of him, Severus turned sharply and moved to the doors.

"We will be using side-along apparition to reach our destination today," he announced as he made his way down the path to Hogwarts' gates. "I do not normally like to travel that way, compensating for others, but since time is so limited…"

Harry and Hermione brooked no arguments, and soon, they had finally reached their destination in front of Severus' home.

As Severus took in the sight of his familiar and yet outwardly foreboding house, he oddly felt a measurable amount of stress escape him along with his exhaled breath. Yes, it had been a burden at first, returning to this place; now, however, this was no longer the case. The unpleasant nostalgia which had previously accompanied the house was now replaced by the happy absence of other students and troublesome staff members. It was a safe place, where he did not have to worry about Kinnaird or Malfoy causing him any sort of stress. It was his own home, where he did not have to abide by the Headmaster coming in and out whenever he saw fit.

That, especially, was a rewarding thought.

Even more important, although Severus would rather not admit it, it was a place where he could see Harry as his son, not the same boy who had wandered the halls of the school for the past 6 years. There, he still felt very much like Harry's professor. Here, he could relax his demeanor a bit more. At least, he could try.

As the three entered the house, Severus was glad to find it was already lit, with the inviting scent of hot cinnamon clove tea instantly greeting them. As they entered the brightest room in the house, the kitchen, Severus saw there were already three saucers with teacups set out, and a steaming pot of tea in the middle.

"Tibby?" asked Harry knowledgeably, and Severus nodded.

"I had told her we would be arriving tonight."

"Well, where is she?" asked Hermione. "We ought to thank her."

"I thank her with kind treatment, Miss Granger; believe me, she does not find her existence here to be overly-cumbersome."

Hermione sniffed, but did not respond.

"Now," said Severus as he sat at the table, pouring himself a cup of tea. "I recognize it is growing rather late in the evening, but I think we ought to set to our tasks immediately. Miss Granger, I will be setting you to your own portion of the potion this weekend. It should take about three hours of preparation this evening, while I attend to the rest. Then, we shall finish the rest tomorrow."

"And what will I be doing?" Harry chimed in, before Hermione even had a chance to say something that Severus was sure would emerge in the form of a question.

"I have a project for you, Harry, never fear," said Severus with a hint of humour in his voice.

"Great," responded his son with a yawn. At Severus' questioning look, Harry explained, "I was up rather late last night, finishing my homework for today…"

With a shake of his head, Severus murmured his disapproval and poured Harry another cup of tea. "Drink up," he said, then rose from the table. "Miss Granger, if you would follow me upstairs, I shall help you get started."

Hermione dutifully followed Severus out of the kitchen, leaving Harry there to mull over his cup of tea alone. As instructed, he finished his tea quickly, and when that was finished, rose and left the kitchen as well. He wouldn't be sure when his Father would be finished upstairs, and he certainly wasn't going to fall asleep at the kitchen table while he waited for him.

It wasn't long before Harry found his way to the couch and sank into it with relief, resting his head on the soft decorative pillow. Certainly, he assured himself, his Father wouldn't blame him for resting his eyes for a few moments while he waited for the energizing effects of the tea to sink in.

A few minutes gradually stretched into many minutes, and Harry quickly drifted into a deeper sleep than he had intended. However, Harry was blissfully unaware of the growing passage of time as he lay sleeping on the couch.

He was also unaware of his Father's looming presence as he happened upon his son, fast asleep on the sofa.

Severus was not immediately sure whether it would be best to wake his son or to let him sleep. The boy had not been lying, he reflected; he must have stayed up rather late the previous night to achieve this sort of drowsiness so quickly.

It would not do, he thought, to wake the boy and have him groggily start on a project of so much importance. There would be plenty of time for him to catch up the following day; he had checked with his Professors, and he had few assignments to complete this weekend. Against his usual cynical nature, he decided that he could trust Harry to work hard on this if he just allowed him to sleep tonight.

After a moment of reflection on this decision, Severus placed the book he held in his hands on the table in front of the couch. Deciding not to wake his son even to tell him to go to his own bed, he conjured a soft blanket from a nearby closet and spread it over the boy's immobile body. With some hesitance, he gently tugged the circular spectacles from atop Harry's nose and placed them within his reach.

"Goodnight, Harry," Severus sighed defeatedly, recognizing even as he did these things that he had, much to his chagrin, softened considerably over the past year.

For the second time that night, Severus shook his head disapprovingly; but now, he directed it at his own futile resistance to this blasted sentimentality rather than the object of it.

Grumbling mildly to himself, he headed back to his potion. That project, at least, he could be sure would conjure nothing from him other than some warmly welcomed churlishness.

He was, after all, a sort of creature of habit.

xxx

When Harry awoke the next morning, he was first of all, surprised to find that it was now light outside. He was secondly surprised to find that he was curled up on the couch in the sitting room, rather than his bed.

As the understanding that he had fallen asleep on the couch the previous night sank in, Harry sat up slowly and rolled his stiff shoulders a few times. He looked around for his glasses and quickly located them on the table in front of him; clumsily putting them on, he then focused on the book upon which they had been resting.

Frowning, and picking it up, Harry read the title:

_White Light _by Malte Svorkad

Resting the book in his lap, Harry looked around, scratching his head. Obviously, his Father had left this for him. And, Harry realized with a pang, this had most likely been what Severus had meant to have him work on the night before.

Harry groaned at the thought of disappointing the man yet again, hitting himself lightly on the forehead with the tomb. With a final grunt, he stood up and trudged out of the room, searching for signs of life anywhere in the quiet house.

It did not take long. Harry quickly stumbled upon Hermione, having what appeared to be an in-depth conversation with Tibby in the kitchen. Harry cleared his throat as he entered, and Tibby immediately curtseyed.

"Master Harry," the elf greeted him, dipping quickly. Then, snapping her fingers, a plate of breakfast appeared next to Hermione's.

"Thank you," Harry said, taking his place at the table.

"I be leaving you to your breakfast, now," said Tibby, and quickly disappeared from the kitchen.

"She seems a bit skittish," remarked Hermione, and Harry shrugged.

"So…where's my Father?" asked Harry tentatively, certain she would tell him he was having some fit of temper off by himself somewhere.

"Working," said Hermione simply. "He rose much earlier than I did. I haven't seen him yet."

"Oh," said Harry, somewhat disappointed that she wasn't able to give him much detail about what to expect. "And…where did you sleep?"

Hermione flushed, and admitted sheepishly, "In your bed. Professor Snape said he didn't quite have a guest room ready, and had assumed I would sleep on the couch for the night, but since you were already there…"

"Ah, how hospitable of him," said Harry wryly.

"Are you angry?"

"No," Harry snorted, shaking his head. "But I'm rather surprised he didn't wake me."

Hermione shrugged, and went back to her breakfast.

Watching her carefully, Harry continued, "How was last night, anyway? Was it weird, working up there with him for so long?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted with a small laugh, shaking her head. "He makes me so nervous."

"I think he tries to," Harry agreed.

Hermione nodded. "Still, it was a comfortable enough silence. I'm so grateful for the opportunity, anyway."

"The opportunity to work?" asked Harry.

"Well," Hermione said, and for some reason had a somewhat guilty gleam to her eye, "I have been thinking about pursuing further education in Potions after…well, after we graduate, if I'm able."

Harry frowned. "I didn't know that."

"Yes," Hermione said quietly, her eyes on her plate. "I've been thinking about it for some time; it's a profession with a lot of room for creativity. Anyway, Professor Snape said he might be able to recommend me for an apprenticeship in a few years, if I show promise."

Harry murmured thoughtfully, fixing his eyes on his own plate now. "He must be pleased," he said with a bit of stiffness to his tone.

"He seems rather annoyed by it, actually," Hermione offered.

"He always seems annoyed," Harry said grudgingly. "But really, I'm sure he's pleased."

Hermione cleared her throat, but didn't say anything else. Somewhat pleased with the silence, Harry continued to eat.

He knew his resentment of this newfound knowledge was childish. He knew he ought to be happy for Hermione's ambition. Still, he could not help but feel that while he continually disappointed his Father in the field of academics, his own friend was consistently making him look even worse in comparison.

"Harry," said Hermione suddenly, shaking him from his thoughts as she reached out and grasped his wrist, "I think I just heard the floo." She stood, looking at him expectantly.

"What?" asked Harry, confused as he too moved to his feet.

"The floo, Harry," Hermione repeated.

Both teenagers quickly moved to the parlor, curious as to who would be trying to contact them so early in the day.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione gasped ahead of Harry as they moved into the room. "What are you—"

"Hello Miss Granger," said Dumbledore quickly, much less genially than was usual. Hermione instantly closed her mouth, also seeming to sense his tenseness, despite his falsely airy tone. "Harry, I was wondering if you might fetch your Father for me…"

xxx

Black robes swirled around Severus' feet as he moved quickly down the corridor towards the hospital wing. Ahead of him, the Headmaster strode quickly, with purpose and speed that Severus had not witnessed in quite some time. Since his days as a Death Eater had come to an end, it had been seldom that he had encountered the Headmaster when he was not behind a desk or offering him lemon drops. The resolution in his manner now told Severus that what he had been called here for was no mere staff meeting.

"You said that Malfoy had asked to see me," said Severus from behind Dumbledore as they moved along. "Would this have something to do with the 'family visit' you allowed him on this weekend."

"It does," said Dumbledore as they came closer to the doors, and in an instant, stopped and turned to face the younger man. He lowered his voice considerably and stepped closer to Severus. "The young man refuses to speak to me about what has occurred this weekend. However, I have hopes that he will reveal it to you. He will not let Poppy touch him, beyond administering a potion for pain. He refuses to reveal what occurred this weekend, refuses to even undress."

"And he asked for _me_?" asked Severus dubiously.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I leave you here," said the Headmaster, gesturing to the hospital door. "Mr. Malfoy has requested to speak with you in privacy; I fear that in order to learn what has occurred here, I must acquiesce."

"Certainly," Severus agreed, straightening his robes and steeling his expression.

"I will see that Miss Granger and Harry made it safely to the common room. I expect to see you later this evening," said Dumbledore, although it seemed like a question. Severus nodded curtly.

As the Headmaster moved past him and disappeared down the length of the hallway, Severus moved to the door of the hospital wing. Without further ado, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him.

Malfoy was lying in the small bed, staring straight ahead at the wall in front of him. His expression was a mixture of resignation and reserve, and he barely twitched as Severus approached his bed.

Severus could see that the boy had endured an immense amount of physical rigor. His clothes were torn in several places, and a strong odor emitting from them told Severus he had been in the same condition for quite some time now. Various cuts and deep bruises marred his ashen skin, and the circles which had become custom under his eyes were even darker than before. Slowly, Malfoy turned resentful eyes on Severus.

The Potions' Master did not stir under the boy's almost accusatory gaze. He waited silently for the boy to say something, but he did not. After a long moment, Malfoy wordlessly moved his hand to the inner pocket of his robes. Looking down, he grasped something there, seemingly lost in a myriad of conflicting thoughts.

Finally, the boy spoke. "No matter what I do," he said in a low voice, removing his hands from his robes and clutching something hidden there. Severus resisted the urge to lower his eyes to what the boy was grasping, and watched his face instead. "No matter what I do, I answer to someone with only his own interests in mind. Still, an opportunity presented itself…"

Unfolding his hands, Malfoy held out a vial to Severus, who reached out and took it, turning it over in his hands. Against his will, his eyes widened ever so slightly.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said, nearly breathless. "This…"

"A piece of Voldemort himself," Malfoy said, a hint of pride in his voice. "The ingredient to your precious potion you needed the most, is it not?"

Pressing his lips together in a silent gesture of triumph, Severus grasped the vial tightly and closed his eyes as he dropped it into his pocket. It was a small victory, but one of the most important ones he could have won. Fixing his gaze on the battered boy before him, he asked solemnly, "What have you done to secure this?"

"I have kept my position, never fear," Malfoy spat, looking away. "I will go back, when he calls. He does not know I took this. However, he was not pleased that in my training I was able to injure him, however great of a sign it is that I am succeeding in becoming as strong as I must."

"What can I do?" asked Severus, more gently now.

"Help me," said Malfoy simply, but there was almost a hint of desperation to his voice. "And stop wasting your time on that prat Kinnaird. The Dark Lord doesn't truly trust him anyway. Train me, instead. If you are going to insist on asking me to do these things, give me a way out, in the end. I at least deserve to profit as much as I stand to lose."

"You know Dumbledore will not abide by that," said Severus seriously.

"Do we serve ourselves or not?" asked Malfoy with uncharacteristic boldness. "If you want to keep your son safe, you must help me as well. It's the only way you can win."

Slowly, Severus nodded. To an extent, this boy was right. Dumbledore was wise, certainly. But he was misguided about his prospects of gaining a loyalty from either Malfoy or Kinnaird. Perhaps the Slytherin in front of him would not make him any solid promises, but neither did he pledge lies. With Kinnaird, Severus could never be certain.

"Very well," he said, stepping back from the bed. "I will try to do what I can for you."

"And leave _Potter _out of it."

"He is _not _a Potter anymore, first of all," Severus reminded him harshly, then quickly regained his composure. "However, I will see to it that he is not present during our meetings. Now, will you let our resident Mediwitch tend to you? Or must I dress your wounds myself?"

If nothing else, the acerbity in Severus' tone seemed to keep Malfoy from making any such requests. "Send her in," he said grudgingly, after a moment of thought.

"Very well," Severus agreed. "And Mr. Malfoy…I thank you. I understand the risk you took in obtaining this."

Malfoy looked as though he wanted to object, but had the sense to refrain. Reluctantly, he nodded, sucking in his bottom lip and looking away. Taking this as his cue to leave, Severus turned quickly and, before Malfoy could come up with any other requests which Severus would have to agree to, left the hospital wing.

As he closed the doors behind him, he could not help but exhale with a certain sense of relief. With his hands still resting on the doorknob, he leaned back and rested his head against the door.

They had what they needed. The Potions ingredient…and a certainty that at least one of their spies was truly _theirs_, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

xxx end chapter xxx

AN: Happy Monday :)

Alright everyone, hope you enjoyed the chapter. Worked my little booty off on it.

Thank you to Dawn and Redtoe33 for their help on the chapter.

Thank you to JtheChosen1 for being reviewer 1500!

Please join my yahoo group for updates about recent chapter progress and such. The link is in my profile. Or, you may simply search the story's title on yahoo groups.

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Thank you for reading!

~G


	47. Baskets

Chapter 47

Baskets

xxx

A hiss that could only come from such a serpentine figure as Voldemort himself filled the silent room. The elderly witch at his side quivered as she drew back, but Voldemort paid her no attention, and she resumed her attentions to the last of his body parts which needed mending. Instead of focusing on the frightened Mediwitch, Voldemort's glowing eyes focused on the man in front of him, who stood awaiting judgment.

"Your son has grown quite strong, Lucius," said the Dark Lord evenly, leveling the man before him with a shrewd, evaluating stare.

"Due undoubtedly to your remarkable training skills, my Lord," said Lucius reverently, bowing his head.

"Is it?" questioned Voldemort. "That last curse, a malicious spell—I did not teach him that. I did not instruct him to perform it. Clearly," he added, gesturing down to his gaping flesh wound.

"Nor did I, my Lord," answered Lucius quickly, as though he had been expecting this. "The boy is very concerned with your approval; he has been spending many hours studying ways to improve his performance. I am certain he wishes to impress you."

"He _has _improved," said Voldemort in a low voice, lingering for a moment before continuing, "Where _does_ he find the time? He spends so very much time at that school."

"A necessary evil, surely you agree," responded Lucius. "Draco tells me Dumbledore expends quite a bit of effort on keeping track of the students in general; it would not do to draw further attention to Draco's absences."

"Oh, come now, Lucius," said Voldemort, sitting forward and shooing the witch from his side, who scampered off quickly at this dismissal. "Surely you do not believe Dumbledore so naïve. These little weekend getaways for your boy; the Headmaster knows he is not going to visit his lonely Mother. Dumbledore allows the absence because he is hoping to use the boy to his advantage; and I wonder, has he already begun?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Lucius said quickly, seemingly appalled at the suggestion. "The Headmaster is far too concerned with Kinnaird to pay any attention to Draco. I have been very clear with Draco; he is to keep his head down, focus on remaining unnoticed by the rest of the staff, and put on a decent show of a troubled home life so that no one questions his repeated visits. He even tells me the Potter boy has, of late, become very interested in his whereabouts; he suggested that he may be able to one day lure him from the castle, given the boy's impulsive nature…"

"That would be very pleasing indeed," Voldemort replied slowly, although he did not look pleased in the slightest. He paused, drumming his fingers thoughtfully upon the arm of his chair. "Nevertheless, Lucius, you ought to stress to Draco the weight that fraternizing with his enemies carries. It would not do for anyone to get the wrong idea about his loyalties...and you, my friend, can afford few more mistakes."

Lucius' brows drew together and he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "…I wonder what you have heard, my Lord…"

"It is not your place to wonder, Lucius, only to serve," said Voldemort darkly. "Remind your son of that fact, and perhaps I will not have to teach him yet another lesson on how to do so."

"Of course," Lucius agreed quickly. He gave pause, and behind his icy blue eyes, searching for the words said, "And he has been solely focused on serving you. He values your favour so highly."

"Yes, but apparent focus can always be a ruse for other emotions, we are aware of that by now," Voldemort said softly, with a darkness which was a warning to Lucius in itself. "It was not so long ago that I lost Severus to Dumbledore, and now I must question whether it is a mistake to have placed so much faith in _two _men at Hogwarts. Perhaps I ought to correct the mistake."

Lucius took a step forward, seemingly without conscious thought. His lips parted and a faint noise emerged, but Voldemort's thin index finger struck a silencing fear in him as he motioned quickly to cease.

I am afraid," said Voldemort unforgivingly, "that I rather need some time to contemplate, Lucius. You are dismissed."

"My Lord—"

"You might consider yourself fortunate," Voldemort said over Lucius' protest, "that I release you without punishment. Leave me."

"My Lord, I agree with you," Lucius interrupted, and immediately bowed his head at Voldemort's dangerously narrowed red eyes.

"I find that quite difficult to believe, Lucius," Voldemort said; it was a challenge.

"Perhaps we have not taken enough notice of young Branson's movements," proposed Lucius, apparently emboldened by the fact that Voldemort had replied with words and not the violent flick of a wand. "We forget how recently he was produced from that very school, and in a time when your name was something like a myth to the children. And now we send him back to the very teachers by whom he was molded? I hope you will forgive me for doubting, but Draco's success is relatively dependent on the work of this other boy."

"It is certain that Kinnaird maintains some uselessness, Mr. Malfoy. I no longer allow any one of my subjects to have too much knowledge at once, and they are therefore crippled. However, he may be disposed of at any time; meanwhile, his inexperience encourages me. He is unable to hide his mind from me, and yet he believes I cannot see what is there. No, Kinnaird is of little consequence to me now."

"I am certain you are correct, my Lord, but allow me to offer you this. I will find a way to be closer to my son, to better influence his mind in our favor, and meanwhile I will watch this Kinnaird."

"What you do with your time little concerns me, Lucius. Just be certain that I will soon tire of your constant bumbling; you ought to choose your conquests wisely."

xxx

The descent to the chilled, torch-lit dungeons was completed with a certain sense of vacancy; numbness hovered dully in the back of Severus' buzzing brain. Slowly, he drew breath. His fingers drifted absently over the smooth glass surface of the vial buried deep in his robes, the constant motion an assurance that he did not imagine its presence there. He moved so swiftly that the touch of his hard heels to the stone floor hardly registered its echo in the empty corridor, the contact barely made.

He reached the door to his office by instinct and opened the door out of habit. He had promised to visit the Headmaster, yes, but he needed time to process…needed time to decide how to frame this for the older man. He needed to verify that the exchange had actually occurred, that he had not imagined it out of desperation to have _something_, _anything_¸ go according to plan.

For the past several months had been filled with disappointments. He had lost his position in Voldemort's circle; he had gone from being a source of invaluable intelligence to one who had to rely on others for secondhand information; it was akin to losing one's eyesight. Well, now, Severus was beginning to taste the power again; acting on his own, despite the requests of the Headmaster, gave him some control over the outcome of this war. He would continue to play Dumbledore's game; he would tolerate Kinnaird when he had the time, and continue to draw Malfoy in while maintaining a sense of discretion in their meetings…

But he would not place his faith in either boy. There was only one boy whose fate truly mattered, and Severus would deceive whomever necessary to help his son. He would take advantage of what Voldemort's two wavering subjects were willing to offer, while keeping each at a safe distance until he could decide who was the most trustworthy.

Malfoy had proven something tonight; that was certain. Where Severus had previously been worried about whether the boy would give any indication of his true loyalty until it was too late, he was now beginning to think that maybe he was a very useful tool they had not yet utilized. Until now, that was.

Taking one last glance at the vial in his hand, (a morbid sight, now that his mind was unclouded by the haze of overwhelming satisfaction) he placed it back into the inner pocket of his robes. With any lingering doubt pushed resolutely out of his mind, he straightened his office quickly, preparing to go back to the lab in his home for the next several days. With a flourish, he banished the light from his office as he crossed the room. With more force than necessary, he whipped open the door and stepped across the border between his office and the corridor.

Always a cautious man, Severus paused to ward his door against intruders. Then, slipping his wand upwards into his sleeve, he turned on his heel…

…And was abruptly greeted by an uncharacteristically stern looking Albus Dumbledore.

"Good evening, Severus," said the Headmaster, but his greeting was anything but genial.

"Headmaster," Severus returned smoothly, tilting his head in Dumbledore's direction.

"It was quite some time ago I left you at the hospital wing." The tone of Dumbledore's voice was neutral, but Severus could detect the question buried underneath the deceptively benign sounding statement.

"It was," agreed Severus, adding, "I was just on my way to your office."

The lie was casual, and to any other person, would have left no room for even a hint of suspicion; however, Severus knew—he could see—that Dumbledore was questioning his motives.

"I had thought you would have gone there, first," said Dumbledore mildly. "I did ask you to report back to me."

Deciding it was best to continue the conversation now rather than later, Severus moved to the Headmaster's side and began to stroll at what was, for Severus, a leisurely pace down the corridor. "My apologies, Headmaster, I did not intend to keep you waiting."

Aside from the necessity of making the Headmaster feel as though he had been given all the essential knowledge, Severus also understood the necessity of getting his preciously guarded Potion ingredient back to his lab, where he could place it in a stasis solution. With both of these purposes in mind, he quickened his pace as he spoke to the older man.

"I did leave some rather pressing business in my Potions laboratory at home and I must return to attend to it; I had thought I would get the necessary things from my office before coming to yours. I hope that I did not overly concern you."

"Yes, of course," said Dumbledore, his stiff shoulders relaxing slightly as he contemplated Severus' explanation for his tardiness. "But to the matter of Mr. Malfoy—"

"Mr. Malfoy has endured quite a lot this past weekend," said Severus, allowing a hint of compassion to affect his tone. "I do not think it would be wise to push him for any information he does not give freely."

"I agree," said Dumbledore, and Severus privately thought he was being honest. "But Severus, what is it he wanted to speak to you about? It is the most curious thing; he would not allow anyone to so much as touch him until you came to his side, and yet now he is allowing Poppy to tend to him freely."

"He was rather concerned about accepting help; he worries the Dark Lord will punish him more severely if he does so. However, I convinced him that this was foolish thinking. I also managed to convince him, and I hope that you will support my judgment on this issue, that he should allow me to teach him how to avoid being treated so harshly in the future." With this, Severus allowed his dark eyes to connect with Dumbledore's, eyebrows raised as if politely daring the other man to contradict him.

"I hope that you are not over-extending yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore with an equally polite eyebrow raise as he gazed at Severus over his spectacles. "With your classes to teach, this Potion to work on, a rather challenging teenage son to raise, Mr. Kinnaird to train, and now Draco Malfoy to look after…I wonder if you are not spreading yourself too thin."

Severus' eyes narrowed in challenge, and he responded, "Headmaster, I spied for you for more years than I care to admit. Compared to the relative hell I've lived through over the past several years, this is what I believe Muggles refer to as a walk through cake."

"I think you may mean 'cakewalk', Severus," said Dumbledore with a perplexed frown.

"Yes," said Severus with a sigh of annoyance, "that is what I said."

"Hmm," Dumbledore muttered quietly, not looking altogether convinced. "Well," he said anyways, as they arrived at the doors of the Great Hall, "I suppose I leave you here. But Severus—I am serious. You cannot take on so much, when there is so much at stake."

"For now, Headmaster, I suggest you allow me to decide what I can handle. However," he added at Dumbledore's expression of protest, "I thank you for your concern. Now, on the subject of my rather challenging son, might I enlist your help?"

"Of course, Severus."

"Please explain to him that I had to leave for the afternoon, but ask him to meet me in my private quarters after he takes dinner tonight, and assure him that I will explain then."

"I will," agreed Dumbledore, and Severus nodded his thanks. He turned to open the door, but Dumbledore halted him with a hand on his shoulder. Severus stiffened at the contact, but twisted his head to look at the Headmaster. "And Severus…I hope that you know we still have much to discuss, when you are able to see me in private."

"Yes, Headmaster," Severus agreed, defeated. It was at times like these when he realized, he would never truly be without someone to answer to. If only, thought Severus wishfully, the old man were as daft as he lead everyone _else_ to believe.

xxx

The door to the sixth year dormitory closed with a startling _BANG, _but the only person to hear was the melancholy boy who had just slammed it.

Harry glanced mechanically around the room, and sighed with relief at its emptiness. He had spent the afternoon pacing the castle corridors; he had not been actively pursuing his father, but he couldn't deny that if they had crossed paths he would have been contented. It had been hours since Severus had left him in dramatic fashion to pursue an unknown task. Dumbledore had sent word to return to the castle, and that was the most he had been told since the morning. Even Hermione, who was normally dependably level-headed, had seemed disturbed by the lack of communication.

Though Harry was certain he would have been better off surrounded by friends, sharing dinner in the clamor of the Great Hall was not an idea he could currently stomach. So, having lapped the castle several times and with the common room mostly empty, he found himself at a loss for distractions. It was with that thought in mind that he closed his eyes and blindly flung himself onto the bed, the very picture of teenage desolation.

A moment later, green eyes sprung open as something pointy prodded the soft back of his neck. With a grimace, he pulled a crisp ivory envelope from between his head and his pillow. Frowning, he turned on his back and slid his finger between the flap and the parchment inside.

Harry was greeted by Dumbledore's tidy scrawl.

_Harry, _

_I am sorry that I was unable to find you in Gryffindor Tower this afternoon. Miss Granger instructed me that you wished to spend the afternoon on your own. Your Father requested that you report to his office after dinner this evening._

_I welcome your company if there is anything with which I can assist you, _

_A.D. _

With a huff, Harry dropped his arm over the side of the bed and released the letter. He was certain that had Hermione not warned Dumbledore of his solitary mood, the old wizard would have been able to find him quicker than if he had climbed straight into the Marauder's Map. And while Harry was slightly relieved he hadn't needed to spend the afternoon warding off the Headmaster's sympathies, he did regret that he had spent the afternoon resenting the lack of communication that had already found its way to his pillow.

Harry rolled out of his small bed and crossed the dormitory. With dinner already half way over, Harry hoped that he would be able to catch his Father early; he had been anxious all day, and was ready for answers.

While Harry had repeatedly spoken to his father about the level of trust between them, he could not help but resent the frequency with which the topic arose. He knew that Severus did not intentionally leave him in the dark, but the fact remained that Harry was last in the chain of command. Everyone answered to him last, and chastised him when he showed signs of indignation.

To Harry, it was becoming utterly disrespectful.

Still, Harry realized that as a sixteen year old boy, he could not exactly reprimand his father of near forty years with positive results. He would have to swallow his pride, for now.

Steeling himself for the encounter, Harry took a moment to breathe before knocking on Severus' office door.

Harry listened closely for rustling from inside, though he knew silencing wards might render his efforts futile. The next few seconds passed slowly as he waited for some kind of sign of his Father. Finally, just as Harry considered turning away, the office door swung open, revealing an uncharacteristically frazzled looking Professor Snape.

Well, thought Harry, frazzled did not seem appropriate for his father in any case. But there were nuances of excitement in his movements, and his eyes gleamed sharply, revealing a mind hard at work. The changes in his demeanor were so subtle, yet Harry was acutely aware of them. He had made a career out of evaluating his Professor and Father's expressions.

"Come in," Severus commanded curtly, stepping aside to allow Harry through. Automatically, Harry obeyed.

Severus glanced cursorily around the corridor before closing the door behind his son. Whirling around, his piercing eyes rested on the boy before him, who seemed caught off guard by the quickness of his movements.

Harry lingered under his Father's gaze, curiosity overcoming discomfort. The office was dimly lit, and the pensieve glowed in the corner, several hazy vials on the table next to it.

"Sit," intoned Severus, resting Harry's attention from the setting. He gestured to the leather, high arching chair positioned in front of his desk. He could sense Harry's unease, but gathered he had little time alone with his son. The Headmaster would give him little time after his return to Hogwarts, and Harry needed to understand the importance of discretion. Simultaneously, Severus could not have him plaguing him with questions in front of Dumbledore.

Harry moved to the chair and pulled it to face his Father's desk; yet, in several swift movements, Snape had joined him in the chair adjacent to his own.

"What I am about to explain to you is a rare instance in which I require the information be kept absolutely exclusive," Severus instructed in a low voice. He stared at Harry unwaveringly, and Harry nodded.

"I understand, sir."

Severus nodded once, and stood. He folded his hands behind his back, and began moving across the room.

"I returned to Hogwarts this morning to discover Draco Malfoy in far worse condition than I last left him. This was a rather important weekend for him, you see." The light of the pensieve danced across Severus' face as he gazed down into the bowl. He paused only for a moment before adding, "And incidentally, for us as well.

"Malfoy has procured for us that which I had considered most unobtainable. The flesh of your enemy, Harry."

Harry's eyes widened, and his chin dropped. He looked up at Severus disbelievingly from under furrowed brows. "How can you be sure this isn't a ploy?"

Severus' lips twitched upward at the side, a faint half smile. "That is why I have extracted these," said Severus, motioning to the vials. "That, and I must keep these memories safe. I hope you will use equal discretion."

"Of course," Harry said, his voice hitching slightly. He was taken aback by the directness with which Severus stated his purpose. He was equally unsettled by the sudden rush of information coming his way.

With his back turned to Harry, Severus uncorked one of the vials sitting on the table, and deposited the other two in his robe. As he did so, he explained, "I will leave you to view this memory. I must go and speak with Dumbledore while you do so."

Pausing, Severus turned around to face Harry. His expression was thoughtful as he said slowly, "You should not infer that I intend to hide anything from Professor Dumbledore, but in Draco's best interest, I do wish to protect him by keeping more personal information to myself. You must be aware of this so you do not undermine my efforts to do so."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Harry," Severus said sharply, "that you are privileged to information I am not willing to share with Professor Dumbledore at this time, and you should not share it either."

"Ah," Harry muttered, only because he had no other words. He was unsure how else to respond; he felt as though he required so many answers, yet could not articulate the questions.

"When I return, we will talk. If you have finished before I return, you may make yourself comfortable in my quarters. I have set out some tea for you and you may rest while I tend to my responsibilities with the Headmaster. Is this agreeable to you?"

"Yes." Harry was certain this was the only expected response.

"Very good," said Severus approvingly. His expression softened for the briefest of moments, and Harry felt a sudden twinge of shame for the building anger he had felt throughout the day. With his normally tight expression relaxed, the stresses of the past years revealed themselves in the pallor of his face.

"Thank you," said Harry quietly, breaking eye contact.

Severus' face became stricken again, and he nodded toward the pensieve. "Perhaps thanks are unnecessary," he stated before excusing himself from the office.

Harry frowned to himself, and rose from his chair. Pondering the meaning of Severus' closing words, he made his way to the pensieve. It had not been so long since his last encounter with the magical device, but his recollection of that event did not put his racing mind at ease. The potential knowledge that lay before him calmed him as much as it excited him. It was as though some invisible strings had been cut, releasing Harry from the resentment he felt towards the imposed naivety of his adolescence.

The glass of the vial felt smooth and cool against his fingers as he gently released its contents into the pensieve. He felt unprepared for what he was about to encounter, he realized as he dipped his head near the basin. Severus had given him no precursor to what he was about to witness, and whatever it was, he would have potentially hours before his Father returned to discuss with him.

It was only the lure of the pensieve before him that quelled these thoughts. He knew that he could bear the curiosity no more easily than he could bear having knowledge without the answers.

The swirling surface engulfed him as he leaned forward. The pensieve pulled him down with increasing speed; tumbling headfirst through a cloudy sky, a rush of adrenaline shot through him—and suddenly, his world went still as he landed harshly on his feet. Losing his balance and jolting forward several steps, he caught himself just shy of running into the tall, imposing figure of the Potions Master. With a sharp breath, he stepped back, and observed his surroundings. He was standing in the corridor, and Severus was exchanging conversation with Dumbledore in a low, rumbling voice as they walked toward the infirmary. Jogging a few steps forward, Harry followed closely behind them.

_"You said that Malfoy had asked to see me," said Severus. "Would this have something to do with the 'family visit' you allowed him on this weekend?"_

_His tone was acerbic; the disdain in his disposition was obvious to Harry._

_"It does," was Dumbledore's reply. He turned to Severus, and moving closer, said quietly, "The young man refuses to speak to me about what has occurred this weekend. However, I have hopes that he will reveal it to you. He will not let Poppy touch him, beyond administering a potion for pain. He refuses to reveal what occurred this weekend, refuses to even undress."_

_"And he asked for me?" Severus questioned. _

_Dumbledore nodded soberly. "I leave you here. Mr. Malfoy has requested to speak with you in privacy; I fear that in order to learn what has occurred here, I must acquiesce."_

_"Certainly."_

_"I will see that Miss Granger and Harry made it safely to the common room. I expect to see you later this evening," said Dumbledore. _

_As Severus pushed the doors to the hospital wing open, Harry braced himself to see Malfoy. When he stepped in the infirmary, he saw exactly what he had expected. It seemed that the bitterness of his expression reflected the roiling resentment on the inside. He barely acknowledged Severus' presence in the room, even as he came to the side of his bed. The evidence of physical abuse was not only present; it encompassed him so that it was all Harry could see. Against his will, he was once again struck with the thought his Father had placed in his head; perhaps, Malfoy _should_ be pitied. _

_When Malfoy finally looked up at the Potions' Master, it was as though he only did so to twist the dagger of having to witness him in this state. Perhaps, Harry thought, Malfoy had refused treatment in order to earn Severus' trust, or perhaps to appeal to his newfound 'fatherly' nature. Either way, despite the apparent damage he had suffered, Harry was sure he had motives that had not yet been revealed. _

_"No matter what I do," said Malfoy finally, stirring Harry from his thoughts. "No matter what I do, I answer to someone with only his own interests in mind. Still, an opportunity presented itself…"_

_Unfolding his hands, Malfoy held out a vial to Severus, who reached out and took it, turning it over in his hands. Severus looked as taken aback as Harry felt. _

_"Mr. Malfoy," said the Professor. "This…"_

_"A piece of Voldemort himself," Malfoy said, as triumphantly as he could manage despite his state. "The ingredient to your precious potion you needed the most, is it not?"_

_Harry could see the flood of satisfaction on Severus' face. The changes in his expression were so minute, and yet Harry now understood the energy with which he had greeted him today. It was clear how much this meant to him, even though Harry doubted the sincerity of Malfoy's act._

_"What have you done to secure this?"_

_"I have kept my position, never fear," Malfoy said with unchecked disdain. "I will go back, when he calls. He does not know I took this. However, he was not pleased that in my training I was able to injure him, however great of a sign it is that I am succeeding in becoming as strong as I must."_

_"What can I do?" asked Severus, more gently now._

_It took Harry a moment to realize that the jolt he experienced in that moment was a surge of jealousy. He shook the feeling away, and looked from his Father's concerned gaze to Malfoy's blank and passive stare. _

_"Help me," said Malfoy, dropping his eyes to the side. After a moment, he said more forcefully, "And stop wasting your time on that prat Kinnaird. The Dark Lord doesn't truly trust him anyway. Train me, instead. If you are going to insist on asking me to do these things, give me a way out, in the end. I at least deserve to profit as much as I stand to lose."_

_"You know Dumbledore will not abide by that," said Severus seriously._

_"Do we serve ourselves or not?" asked Malfoy loudly. "If you want to keep your son safe, you must help me as well. It's the only way you can win."_

_"Very well," he said, stepping back from the bed. "I will try to do what I can for you."_

Harry barely had time to register his own reaction before he was being pulled back through the pensieve. He felt as though there must be some mistake, like his time had been cut short. For everything he had expected to gain from viewing the memory, he now had even more to contemplate.

When Harry found himself standing back in Severus' office, alone in the dimly lit room and already contemplating the contents of the memory, it was all a bit more than he could process at once. Trying to clear his mind, he hurriedly prepared to leave the office and started towards Severus' quarters.

He tried to organize his thoughts, but they all came in the form of questions. What did Malfoy stand to gain? This stood out as the most important to Harry, and it was not something Severus could answer for him. It was a question he would have to consider on his own time. The fact remained, Malfoy did nothing selflessly. He made no claims to a noble cause. He certainly had no interest in helping Harry personally.

So why would he provide them with something so valuable, with so little in return? In fact, it was not only the lack of gain that concerned Harry; it was the extent of the sacrifice that seemed so uncharacteristic.

There was only one thing that Malfoy could earn. Severus, and all the advantages of having his trust. Malfoy must know that Severus was willing to help him, when everyone else wanted to turn him away.

It frustrated Harry beyond belief. Severus sympathized with Malfoy because he saw something of his young self in him; this much Harry knew without needing to hear it. And it bothered him, because when Severus became easily frustrated with his Gryffindor son, it seems those flaws were the Slytherin's strengths.

Yet, there was a reason Severus had shown him this memory. Harry thought back to Malfoy's demeanor. The boy was clearly disturbed. He was not faking the mental and physical injuries he was sustaining. And, he couldn't walk away. It was entirely possible that he would take any way out he could find, even if it did mean helping Harry. It was a method of survival.

Harry let himself into Severus' dark quarters and lit the ensconced candles with a flick of his wand. He poured himself a cup of tea and made himself comfortable on the couch. The smooth warmth of the tea gliding down his throat soothed him, and he closed his eyes just for a moment. He needed to stop turning over all of these thoughts. Severus would arrive soon, and they would talk about the implications of everything that had occurred.

Opening his eyes and leaning forward to set his teacup on the low table, Harry realized how rapidly change was coming. The completion of the potion would mean the start of offensive action against Voldemort. His concerns would no longer be passing Transfiguration and whether or not to take dinner in the Great Hall; the fears lingering in the back of his mind would finally be realized.

It would have been lovely, thought Harry as he buried his face in the pillows, to just close his eyes and forget the nervousness churning in his gut.

Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn't register the opening and closing of the door; he knew nothing of Severus' presence until the older man approached the couch on which he lay.

"Harry?"

Pulling his head out of the sofa, Harry looked up at him and promptly pushed himself upright.

"How are you feeling?" inquired his Father reservedly, taking a seat in the chair across from him. It seemed as though he were expecting a strong reaction.

Harry, however, merely shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sure what you intended me to learn from this."

"Perhaps learn is the wrong word," suggested Severus, leaning back in his chair and watching him with an evaluative stare.

"Well, I'm not certain what the right one is, then," said Harry, perhaps with more petulance than he intended. Severus simply nodded.

"I know what your feelings are, Harry, and I do not expect you to alter them. However, I do ask that you set them aside and focus on the most important aspects of what you witnessed.

"You know that Malfoy is not Dumbledore's favored candidate for the job that must be done. You also know that Kinnaird is not mine. Do you see where I am leading?"

Harry narrowed his eyes, thought for a moment, and shook his head.

"Think about it, Harry," instructed Snape.

Harry was becoming more and more frustrated, but he did as he was told. He understood why his Father had little faith in Kinnaird… he supposed he had much more faith in Malfoy.

"I need," said Snape softly, "to ensure that we have another method of success, should Kinnaird fail. And I feel quite strongly that he will."

"I understand," said Harry. "You don't want to put all your eggs in one basket. But how can you be sure Malfoy is the right one?"

"I had hoped you would understand once you viewed my memory. I also thought you would appreciate being fully informed. Did I waste my time in doing so?"

The retort was a bit harsher than Harry felt he deserved, but he tried to brush it off. "I just wanted to understand your reasoning, that's all. I didn't say I disagreed with your method. I suppose Malfoy has done us a great service…I just wonder what it will cost us later."

"Very astute," Severus replied approvingly. "And I wonder the same, but I believe that by helping Malfoy now, it might encourage his loyalty later. Do not think he can manipulate me, Harry. I have quite a bit of experience in these matters, do not forget."

"I know," replied Harry, feeling somewhat silly. Of course, his Father had a far darker side than Harry had experience with. Harry did not think of him as a true Death Eater, but the fact remained that he had dealt with that circle for most of his adult life.

"You realize what this means for us, don't you Harry? We are much closer to winning than we have ever been before."

"If that _is _the outcome," said Harry, somewhat bitterly.

"It will be," said Severus, a chill to his voice. Somewhat startled by the change, Harry glanced up sharply. The look on Severus' face was steely, solemn. "We are all willing to sacrifice to help you succeed, Harry. Do not take that for granted."

"That's what I'm worried about," Harry sighed, standing with resignation. "I'm very tired, may I be excused?"

Severus looked surprised at the suddenness of the request. "I would prefer to continue talking."

It sounded more like a command than a request, but Harry persisted. "I'm just not sure what else there is to discuss. I understand. I should no longer question Malfoy's usefulness or your motives for helping him. I am thankful that you have told me these things. I might need some time to deal with it, that's all."

Severus nodded, though he looked as though he were biting back an acid response. "Very well, then. We will speak tomorrow. At the house."

Harry could have kicked himself; he hadn't realized they were returning to the house tomorrow. There, he could not resist Severus' efforts to discuss the things to come. Right now, he just wasn't ready to face those realities.

"Fine," he replied, somewhat dejectedly, moving towards the door. For a reason he couldn't quite determine, Severus looked quite affronted.

"Be here at nine A.M. tomorrow," called Severus over his shoulder. "And remember what we discussed. You are not to speak of this to anyone."

"Understood. Good night," said Harry shortly, before closing the door behind him.

From his chair, Severus stared at the wall ahead, frustrated with the immaturity of the boy who constantly complained of not being treated like an adult. Severus had expected a far more positive reaction, for he himself felt so triumphant.

But rather than reacting positively, Harry had become petulant, almost more childlike. He should have realized the advantages they now had. He should have felt relieved to see the work of the past year coming together in favor of their plan.

No, his son only saw the hatred he had for Malfoy. Despite what Malfoy had provided them with, he still could not see what Severus saw.

It was somewhat maddening. But, with no choice but to leave it for morning, Severus willed his mind to turn towards other matters. Rising from his seat, he banished the light from his quarters. He had other matters to attend to; he had done his duty to Dumbledore and talked with his son, but there was another person who needed his attention now.

It did not take Severus long, with his long legs and purposeful pace, to reach the hospital wing. As he approached, however, his steps slowed; the door to the infirmary was cracked, and low voices were slipping through to the otherwise silent corridor. Quieting the click of his boots against the stone, he moved stealthily toward the door. The nondescript mumbling became audible as he performed a subtle sound amplifying charm.

"—thank you, but you weren't exactly of service to me when it was required—" Malfoy was speaking.

"And what would you have me do, throw myself between you and the Dark Lord?" hissed a voice in retort, and Severus was surprised to recognize Kinnaird's voice.

"Don't be foolish," Malfoy growled, and there was a moment of silence. "Listen, you shouldn't be seen here anyway. You ought to leave."

"Very well," responded the voice stiffly, with more coldness than Severus was used to hearing in Kinnaird's tone. "You know how you may reach me, at any cost."

There was no more exchange before Severus heard footsteps heading in his direction. He cancelled his charm and stepped quickly into an alcove within the corridor; unseen, he waited there as Kinnaird passed by him unwittingly.

Severus had witnessed many underhanded dealings in his lifetime, but he was unsure what to make of this one. There were few reasons for Kinnaird to visit Malfoy in the hospital wing. There were even fewer to explain their conversation.

Severus began to reconsider whether it were wise to visit Malfoy at this time. What he had hoped to accomplish was to gain a little more of Malfoy's trust by taking an interest in his welfare. That was still important, he decided. He would not reveal that he had heard anything of the exchange. He would, however, save that conversation for a better time. It would be far easier for Malfoy to cover his tracks if he knew that Severus was on to him.

Just as quickly and silently as he had come, Severus swept away from the hospital wing.

xxx

When Harry arose in the morning, it took a few minutes for the anxiety over last night to hit him. As soon as it did, he wished he could go back to bed.

He realized now that he should have dealt with everything the night prior, rather than saving it for today. He had not done any "processing", that much was certain. Fuming? Yes. Jumping to paranoid conclusions about Malfoy? Absolutely. Processing the information in a healthy and sensible way?

One-hundred times no.

And now, so very early in the morning, he had to go meet his Father and travel with him to an isolated house with very few distractions. It was not an idea that appealed to Harry at the moment.

Be that as it may, Harry could practically hear his Father's sardonic tone ringing in his head, he had little choice in the matter. He needed to start practicing his magic, getting stronger, preparing. His Father, like it or not, was the only person who could teach him these things. He wouldn't learn it from a book, and it wouldn't come to him naturally…at least, not at first.

Harry knew that if he were to become the man who needed to defeat Voldemort, he would have to set aside his emotions and focus on the task at hand.

In the end, his emotions wouldn't matter if Voldemort defeated him.

Harry splashed some cold water onto his face and combed his hair to prepare himself for the day. After throwing on a clean set of clothes, he grabbed the sack he'd prepared the night before and hurried down to Severus quarters.

When Harry arrived, Severus was already waiting for him.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled at the ground as he walked up, but Severus merely shook his head. He seemed terse, probably thinking about the prior evening.

"We will be Apparating this morning," Severus told him. "I would rather not use the Headmaster's floo."

The walk through the castle and to the gate was a silent one. Harry trailed behind Severus, keeping quiet aside from an occasional yawn. Every time something came to mind that he thought about saying to his Father, he stifled the urge.

When they did finally arrive at the house, Severus was very short with him.

"I am going to work on a few things upstairs, Harry. You may rest, or read some of the books I set out for you in the library. I will be with you later."

Harry had no chance to respond; Severus had whirled around and ascended the stairs before Harry could so much as open his mouth. Perturbed, he stomped off to the kitchen. Perhaps he could at least get some breakfast out of Tibby, if nothing else.

xxx

It was some time after leaving Harry downstairs that Severus left to return to Hogwarts. Harry clearly needed some more time to himself, and Severus would not be able to rest until he spoke to Malfoy. If he could get a sense of what was going on between him and Kinnaird, it would put his mind greatly at ease.

Though he had no desire to talk to the Headmaster today, the floo was now the easiest way to leave without having to argue with Harry about his destination. After informing Tibby to take care of Harry and to explain his whereabouts only if necessary, he departed for the castle.

Dumbledore seemed surprised to see him as Severus arrived in his office in a burst of green flame. Severus, however, stepped out of the ashes gracefully, as though nothing were abnormal about his sudden appearance.

"It occurred to me," explained Severus very simply, before Dumbledore could inquire about his presence, "that I should perhaps check on Mr. Malfoy, as he does not seem particularly receptive to any other visitors at this time."

"Ah," Dumbledore responded simply, eyebrows lifted as he gazed up at Severus' hard features. Nonchalantly, he added, "That is rather kind of you, Severus."

Severus' expression was disdainful as he registered the word "kind".

"Yes, well," he said with a slight sneer, "What you call kindness I call strategy, but whatever eases your conscience."

Dumbledore gave little reaction other than a small shake of his head, and he looked back down at his work. "Enjoy your visit, Severus."

Severus, for his part, was already opening the door as he said a stiff goodbye to the Headmaster.

For the second time in quite a short period of time, Severus' steps slowed as he approached the infirmary. This time, however, the hospital doors were closed, and there were no voices echoing from the inside.

Subtle trepidation stilled his hand as he reached for the handle of the door. He breathed deeply, clearing his mind of all disturbances. He felt a mixture of emotions that he was reluctant to acknowledge. There was a part of him that pitied the boy inside, who was, in all reality, still very young. There was yet another part, a more prominent part, that felt fiercely protective over his own son. That part wanted to see Malfoy and Kinnaird mounted on the wall if they dared to conspire against him.

Severus shook his head and stilled his thoughts. Suppressing his emotions was the only sure way to accomplish any of his goals, when it came to the Malfoy boy.

With no further hesitation, Severus twisted the brass handle and stepped into the infirmary.

From his bed, Malfoy's head slowly turned from the window, and his lips quirked upwards just slightly as his eyes rested on Professor Snape.

xxx

Breakfast did not hold Harry's attention for long. Even the raspberry filled pastries that Tibby had provided him with were not enough to quell the frustrated feelings manifesting in Harry while he waited for his father to come downstairs.

Though he was normally happy not to be asked to contribute in the Potions lab, (his skills were just not up to his Father's expectations), he was rather offended that Severus had not even considered asking him to come along, since he had forced him to come to the house so early in the morning. In addition to this, he was rather infuriated at the cold shoulder he was being given. Had he been a little unreasonable the night before? Yes, but this much was normal. He thought that Severus would at least have inquired how he was feeling about everything today, before locking himself in isolation.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Harry had made his way to the attic laboratory. And it was with these thoughts in mind that he finally mustered the courage to open the laboratory door.

The door swung open with a telling _creak_, and Harry squinted as he cringed against the reprimand that was surely coming. When no such thing occurred, however, he opened his eyes, frowned, and stepped through the door.

The emptiness inside was quite a surprise. In fact, not only was the room empty, but it looked as though nothing had been touched.

Infuriated, Harry slammed the door behind him as he hurried out of the lab. His Father was not here, and Harry was pretty sure he knew just where to find him.

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: It has been awhile, but for each gem of a reader that still reads and reviews my story, I will continue to update. I'm sorry that they are sporadic, I really do try! It seems time passes much more quickly than I realize.

Thanks to Dawn and Trish for reviewing this chapter for me.

It means so much to know that people are still out there, reading this story. I hope you will review to let me know that you are still there; it's for all of you that I write.

Thanks, and I hope you enjoyed reading!

~G


	48. Snake in the Grass

Chapter 48

Snake in the Grass

xxx

Harry's chest rose and fell in time with his quickly moving feet. His heart was pounding out of his chest, his thoughts racing out of control. None of this stopped him, however, as he dashed straight past the Headmaster towards the hospital wing.

He was unstoppable as he exited Dumbledore's office and ducked down a corridor headed in the opposite direction of his true destination. He knew that Dumbledore would try to stop him if he appeared to be headed anywhere near the hospital wing. His plan, however, was to head first towards the library. By the time anyone caught on to him, he would be too far gone to stop unless that person beat him to the infirmary.

Harry was furious that Severus was putting Malfoy in front of him yet again. If he wanted to coax the other boy through the problem he had gotten himself into, fine. Harry could accept that he wasn't the only boy who needed guidance. But for Severus to abandon him after giving him the cold shoulder all morning only to go to the aid of a boy who was clearly only focused on his own interests…it was intolerable.

His Father's nature was to believe himself infallible, this much Harry knew. But perhaps if he could show him that he wasn't some stupid boy to be ignored, he could earn his respect. He had tried for long enough to impress the man by yielding to his harsher nature; he had given him as much respect as he could muster. But if Severus wouldn't include him of his own free will, Harry would force him to see what he needed him to understand.

And that was that Harry needed guidance just as badly as the other protégés he had acquired. As his son, he certainly deserved it.

Harry arrived in front of the doors in what seemed like no time at all. He had no idea what he was going to say, or what he would accomplish. He only knew that he wanted to make himself heard.

After several moments of hesitation, Harry pushed the doors to the hospital wing open. Both Malfoy and Severus slowly raised their heads' to stare at Harry; Malfoy's gaze, accusatory—Snape's, painfully contemptuous.

"Potter?" Malfoy spat, giving him a dark glare before turning accusatory eyes on Snape.

But Snape was not looking at Malfoy. No, his eyes wouldn't move from Harry if his life depended on it.

"Professor Snape," said Harry coldly, refusing to back down from the man with the cold, dark eyes that bore into him. "I was wondering if I might steal just a _moment_ of your time…but I can see you are far too busy for that."

Harry crossed his arms and stared at him challengingly, but the proud feeling he'd felt for the fleeting moment in which Severus looked as though he had been struck was instantly replaced by fear. In an instant, the Potions Master was on his feet, moving towards him more quickly than Harry could react.

The rage in the Professor's eyes was overpowering as he bore down on Harry, his long white fingers wrapping tightly around the boy's arm. Veins visibly protruded from his forehead as he ground his teeth against each other; with a forceful grip, Snape walked his son into the hallway and slammed the doors behind him before shoving the boy several meters across the corridor.

Harry stumbled to catch his balance, shocked at the rage Severus was displaying. The older man stood there, breathing deeply and saying nothing.

"All I said was that I wanted to talk to you!" Harry shouted, rubbing his hurt arm. He was no worse for the wear, but was a little frightened at his Father's reaction.

"You," his Father hissed in a low whisper, "could have ruined everything. You haven't a clue as to what I am here for, have you? You haven't considered that just perhaps, the things I must tend to are a bit more _important _than tending to your adolescent temper tantrums!"

"Yes, I'm becoming _well _aware of that!" Harry retorted, his vehemence now rising to new levels. "You care so bloody much about that prat—"

"Stop," commanded Severus, stepping forward and grabbing hold of Harry's arm once more—although this time much more gently. "To my office. Now."

Harry wrestled his arm from Severus' grip and flung the man's hand away, turning to glare at him before turning and heading down the corridor. Severus started to follow close behind him, until both halted in their tracks. Walking quickly down the corridor, looking quite vexed, was Professor Dumbledore.

Severus growled in annoyance, wishing that just for once, he could deal with his son's immaturity without bringing it to the attention of every other staff member within the castle.

"What can I do for you, Albus?" asked Severus acerbically, stepping in front of his son. "I believe you've already caused enough damage, allowing him to follow me down here—"

"I do believe," said Dumbledore smoothly, sliding his crystal blue eyes from Severus to Harry, "that Harry here specified he was taking a book from the library, when he arrived. Did you not, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry grumbled reluctantly.

"And of course, he has a perfect record for telling the truth," replied Severus sardonically. "Albus, I require a word with my delinquent son, if you don't mind."

Dumbledore looked reluctant to allow them to walk away; yet, the look on Severus' face brooked little refusal.

"As you wish," replied Dumbledore as a moment, casting a look at Harry that denoted both sympathy and reprimand, if the combination were at all possible.

Averting his eyes from Dumbledore's, Harry stepped around the older man and followed Severus. He was still fuming over the whole situation. The injustice of it all was too much to bear. Severus had ignored him only to go spend time with the boy who had repeatedly been the source of arguments between the two. There was a small voice in the back of Harry's mind that told him he was overreacting…however, there was an even louder voice in the front that told him his Father was the one in the wrong. Hadn't he been the one to deceive Harry? Hadn't he been the one to abandon him because he felt some other responsibility calling?

So why was Harry feeling so awful?

There was not much time to contemplate the answer to that question. When Harry and Severus reached the office, Severus turned to evaluate his son for a short moment before opening the door.

"Sit."

With little choice in the matter, Harry begrudgingly obeyed.

"What were you thinking?" asked Severus harshly as he took his seat behind his desk. "I thought I made it perfectly clear how important Malfoy's allegiance is. I thought you understood by now how to act with discretion. Why is it so difficult for you to follow the guidelines I've laid out for you? It should not be a challenge! I have told you _exactly _what I expect from you. It is very simple."

"Right," said Harry bitterly, as though he were spitting out something foul. "Duly noted. I guess you've already done your part as my Father, since you were such a great one while I was growing up and all."

A stunned silence descended over the pair as Severus failed to react to Harry's malignant jab. Instead, he merely watched his son.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" he asked finally, the anger in his voice ebbing as disappointment took its place.

Harry could not quite bring himself to respond. He sat with his eyes fixed to the floor, unwilling to admit defeat.

"You have _nothing_ to say, Harry?" Severus prompted again. Harry remained tight lipped. Sighing and shaking his head, Severus gave up waiting for a response. "That is disheartening, to say the least. Well, if you have nothing to say, then I do."

Severus rose from his seat and walked around to the front of his desk; he leaned back against it and folded his hands in front of him. Harry resisted the urge to move his chair back; the feel of the Potions Master looming over him was far too reminiscent of years past for his comfort.

"You should understand, Harry," said Severus sternly, his demeanor returning to the cool stoicism with which Harry was familiar, "if you had responded to this news of Malfoy's contribution as a normal, mature adult would have, we would not be in this position. I would have felt comfortable disclosing more information to you than I have thus far, and you would not be confused about why I left to talk to him this morning. You still cannot seem to grasp the principles I've been trying to teach you, however. I ask only one thing; you must trust me. I know better than you. I have more experience than you, in every sense."

He stated the last factually; no emotion colored his tone. His gaze had shifted from the boy in front of him to somewhere off in the distance; his voice was low, his tone dry, almost as if he were speaking to someone other than the boy in front of him.

"I have clearly been too lenient thus far; this is a mistake I will now correct. I have been waiting for you to mature on your own. I have shared with you all that I know about Malfoy and Kinnaird. Yet, this is still not good enough for you. You require more. You require more, only because of your immaturity. So, from now on, we will lay down a few ground rules.

"When I leave you somewhere, you will stay put until I return. When I deem information important to give to you, it will not be open to interpretation; I will tell you the exact implications it carries for us, and you will accept my word as fact. You will no longer take matters into your own hands; you are to consult me before acting on _anything_. Is that understood?"

"No!" Harry replied indignantly.

"No?" Severus repeated in a threatening tone, arching an eyebrow.

"No," Harry reiterated, drawing the single syllable out and aiming a challenging glare at his Father. "I don't care what you say; this whole issue of trusting Malfoy, or Kinnaird, comes down to my survival. I deserve to know what's going on. I'm not going to stand by while you keep me in the dark any longer. If I can't trust you to look out for my best interests, then I'll take it into my own hands. I survived without you telling me what to do long enough, I can do it again. I don't _need_ you."

By the time Harry had finished speaking, Severus' expression had gone from firm and unyielding to shocked and scornful. Harry squirmed in his seat, but he did not relent. He was determined to show his Father that he meant everything he said; he was no longer going to be treated like a child who needed every decision made for him.

"Very well," said Severus stiffly after a long, uncomfortable pause. "If you have nothing left to say, then neither do I. You are dismissed."

"Dismissed?" questioned Harry heatedly.

"Yes, for the moment," replied Severus smoothly. "Tomorrow, and every day for the following week, you will report to my office for detention after dinner."

"You can't set me detention for this!" Harry furiously replied.

"In addition to that," added Severus, raising his voice ominously over Harry's, "you are effectively on house arrest. Since I cannot trust you to abide by the rules, it follows that I must protect you from your own reckless behavior. You are to hand over your marauder's map and invisibility cloak, and you will accompany me whenever I go to the house."

"This is ridiculous," argued Harry.

"If you would prefer, I could come up with a far more creative punishment," said Severus, a sarcastic smile spreading across his face and bringing Harry's blood to a boil. Then, he slowly extended his arm and opened his palm, beckoning.

"What?" snapped Harry, regarding the Professor's hand with derision.

"Your prohibited items, of course," said Snape smoothly, glancing at the bag behind Harry's chair. "I would assume you did not come on this venture today _completely_ unprepared, little common sense though you have."

Harry wanted to scream. He wanted to spit every curse word in his arsenal straight into the face of his dictator. He wanted to refuse and storm out of the office. He was sure, however, that he would not get far. In rapid, jerky movements, Harry bent and removed his invisibility cloak and marauders map from his sack and tossed them onto the desk behind his Father.

Blinding anger threatening to overwhelm him, Harry kept his mouth firmly closed and avoided Severus' eyes as he gathered his things. With anger transparent in each of his movements, he moved to the door, slamming it behind him with as much force as he could muster.

As soon as the door was shut, Severus' icy demeanor melted. Enraged, he brought his fist down hard against the top of his desk; his belongings trembled with the impact. His breath escaped him in a slow hiss. His son was absolutely infuriating. No matter how hard Severus tried, he didn't' seem to be able to teach Harry the lessons he wanted to learn.

The boy was stubbornly and perpetually a Gryffindor.

As far as Severus saw it, it was his duty as a Father to change that unfortunate character trait.

xxx

_Tick._

Severus drew an angry red line through John Abhram's entire answer to exam question number four.

_Tick._

Severs replaced the jar of red ink on his desk, having used up his first on a stack of third year essays.

_Tick._

Severus moved on to the stack of sixth year homework. Harry's paper was on the top of the pile.

_Tick._

Severus lifted his wand.

_Tick._

With little warning, the clock across the room shattered into an explosion of wood and glass shards.

No tick.

Severus smiled.

It was the first happiness Severus had experienced in days, destroying the clock which marked every minute drawing closer to Harry's fourth detention.

It had literally been days since he and Harry had last spoken. Every day, Harry had reported to detention; every day, Severus had sat in his chair, putting on an air of dispassion as he moved through stacks of ungraded homework. Every day, Harry sat with a new assignment in front of him, resolutely ignoring his Father.

To his frustration, Severus had to admit that forcing Harry to sit in a room with him for hours every day was perhaps not the best solution to their problems. However, having already set the punishment for the boy's wrongdoings, he refused to relent.

So, Severus sat, waiting for Harry to arrive for his scheduled detention. When the door finally creaked open, Severus barely lifted his eyes from the parchment in front of him.

"You're here rather early," he remarked flatly as the door clicked shut.

"I wasn't under the impression that you were expecting me, Professor," drawled the voice of Draco Malfoy.

Severus frowned and raised his eyes from his desk. "Mr. Malfoy," he greeted mildly. "Glad to see you are out of the hospital wing."

"As am I, though I certainly had to fight Madame Pomfrey to allow it," Malfoy responded coolly.

"I'm quite sure you did," Severus replied good-naturedly, before asking, "What brings you to my office?"

Malfoy cleared his throat. "Firstly," he said, looking somewhat awkward, "I wanted to thank you for your help while I was in the hospital wing."

Severus inclined his head forward, but said nothing. He had only done the bare minimum to keep Malfoy comfortable, bringing him his assignments and checking in on him once a day, but this was apparently more than the boy had expected.

"Secondly, now that I am recovered, I was wondering when you would expect me to begin training with you."

Severus reclined in his chair and examined Malfoy momentarily. "Mr. Malfoy, I will certainly help you in any matters with which you need assistance, but I do not have any sort of training schedule outlined for you. You should understand that as you will only speak to me, the Headmaster has not allowed me any extra time to take you on. I will only be able to help you when I am not obligated to take on other duties."

"I understand that," said Malfoy, immediately looking down at the floor. Severus squinted at him for a moment, head cocked. This was a far more humble Malfoy than he had seen of late, and he wondered what the sudden change was. "My Father has trained me quite well in Occlumency, Professor. The Dark Lord has tried and tested me as far as my dueling skills are concerned. I don't need any of that. I don't require much of your time."

"Well, then," replied Severus, "clearly you are here for a reason. What do you require of me?"

"I have been called away again," explained Malfoy. There was fear in his voice, but he showed no other signs of distress. "If there is anything you can tell me that might help in my return…"

At once, Severus stood and moved to the locked Potions supply closet. When he emerged again, he was holding several bottles in his hands.

"There is little I can tell you, Draco, in such a short amount of time that might make this a peaceful weekend for you. I can, however, offer you these. This," he said, handing the first, rather small bottle to him, "is the Essence of Dittany. It will help you to heal if you should sustain any injuries. This," he said, handing him the second, empty vial, "is for you to store the memories of this past week. You say you are trained in Occlumency, but it is always safe to assume that whatever skills you possess, they are no stronger than those of the Dark Lord."

Malfoy looked down at the bottles in his hand as though it were a rather paltry offering, but said nothing.

"There is little I can do for you, you understand," said Severus firmly. "The things I learned from my experience with the Dark Lord were not things someone else could have taught me. I can help you to the best of my ability, but you will have to pull from the strength inside you. You'll be surprised the things you come up with when your life depends on it."

Malfoy nodded solemnly, and deposited the vials into his robe. Severus watched the disappointment in his face with curiosity, and as he replayed Malfoy's reactions in his head, began to wonder at the boy's motives.

"Is there another way in which I can assist you?"

Malfoy turned his eyes to Severus' dark ones for a mere moment, and Severus subtly pressed against his thoughts, probing for a motive. Within seconds, however, Malfoy had shifted his gaze and refocused his mind, breaking the unstable connection Severus had forged.

"Kinnaird will likely be stopping by this afternoon," Malfoy said mildly, turning to the door. "I would prefer if he remained unaware of this meeting."

"Naturally," Severus responded coolly. "Be careful this weekend, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy didn't reply with more than a simple nod. Once the door had closed behind him, Severus resumed his seat at his desk, his attention focused on Malfoy's parting statement. Severus had, unbeknownst to them, witnessed Malfoy and Kinnaird interacting a mere week beforehand, and now Malfoy was attempting to keep up the pretense that the two acted separately of each other.

Draco Malfoy had also arrived at Severus' office expecting far more than he had come for; that much was certain. What had he wanted, and why hadn't he asked for it directly?

Severus was no novice in the art of deception; privately, he thought that the children he dealt with as of late did not seem to grasp on this simple fact.

Severus had little more than a moment to contemplate the strange nature of Malfoy's visit, however, as Harry arrived for detention. As had become custom over the last several days, he meandered into the room cloaked in misery and sat in his desk without a word. Shuffling obnoxiously through his bag, he finally located the book he was looking for and dropped it onto his desk loudly.

Up at the front of the room, Severus watched his son in annoyance. At this point, the boy's melodrama was strictly for show, Severus decided. And he had had enough.

"Harry."

Though it was only one word—one sound, really—the sound of Severus' voice echoing through the painfully silent room was enough to startle anyone to attention. Harry, however, desisted writing for only a moment before continuing to scratch quill against parchment.

Sighing, Severus walked slowly over to Harry's desk. He placed his hands atop the surface and leaned into his son's personal space, forcing him to lift his head and lean back.

"Enough," said Severus firmly, eyebrows arching elegantly as he watched Harry. "Put your things away," he commanded. "We're going for a walk."

The walk, Harry came to find, was a rather long one. Every time they rounded another corner, Harry held his breath, expecting his Father to speak. He was, however, repeatedly disappointed.

It was not until they had emerged from the castle and were walking across the spring-soaked grounds that Severus finally spoke to him.

"I am disappointed, Harry," said Severus, sounding rather subdued, as though there was much more he would have liked to say on that topic. "I often feel that when I think you have gained some maturity, you make it your personal goal to prove me wrong. Do you understand why I feel that way, Harry?"

Harry did understand, to an extent, why his Father might feel that way. But he would not admit it. Not when this was the first thing the man had to say to him in days. "I think it's because you often misunderstand me."

"No, Harry, that is not why," responded Severus bitingly, lifting his eyes to the sky as though asking the gods for help. "It is because you act without thinking. If you had asked me the other day why I had left you like I did, the answer would not have been that I preferred to spend my time with Malfoy, as you foolishly seemed to believe.

"It would have been that during our entire trip from Hogwarts to our home, you refused to speak to me. You essentially pouted during the entire forty-three minutes we spent leaving and arriving. So, Harry, my conclusion was that you were not yet ready to talk. I left to speak to Mr. Malfoy because I had several suspicions I wanted to see confirmed or denied; yet, none of this seemed to occur to you when you were barging into the hospital wing as though you had caught me in the act of conspiring to murder you with the Dark Lord. Is that indeed what you had assumed?"

"Of course not," Harry muttered resentfully.

"Strange, then, how you thought that such behavior was appropriate. Also strange to me is that five days have passed since then, and you have yet to apologize for your childish misdeeds."

"Well, you haven't exactly apologized to me either," retorted Harry.

"And what on earth do I have to apologize for?" asked Severus with a snort.

"You lied to me!"

"When?" replied Severus quickly, coming to a halt and whirling to face Harry. "When exactly did I lie to you, Harry? In fact, as I remember it, I provided you with access to my memories specifically so that you could not accuse me of such an act."

"Yes," Harry agreed begrudgingly, "but you told me you were going to work upstairs and then you snuck back to Hogwarts. As if you couldn't treat me with enough respect to tell me you were going to talk to Malfoy."

Severus' lips were pressed into a thin line as Harry spoke; he looked as though he were biting back on a stinging response. "I did not 'sneak' anywhere, Harry." He spoke slowly, forcibly keeping his voice calm. "I am an adult; I do not require your permission to carry out necessary duties. Please, try to wrap your mind around that fact."

Harry exhaled sharply and shook his head, staring off into the distance as he avoided eye contact with his Father. Severus, for his part, was at a loss. He was failing, in every sense of the word, to connect with his son. He wished the boy could simply understand how irrational he was being. It seemed that nothing he did could impress that upon him. Despite the futile nature of his efforts, however, he found himself unable to back down. He refused to send a message to Harry that would encourage behavior such as this in the future.

"Harry," Severus finally said, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, forcing him to acknowledge his presence. "Why are you so determined to fight with me? All I ask is that you think about your actions and ask yourself what you might have done differently. You cannot go on refusing to see how your actions have earned these consequences."

"I do, Severus," said Harry, shrugging off his Father's grip. "And yet you won't recognize _your _role in all of this."

"We've been over this—"

"Yeah, I know," Harry interrupted, frustrated. "And I'm serving my sentence, aren't I?"

Shaking his head at Harry's antics, Severus folded one arm over the other and contemplated the boy in front of him. The look on Harry's face was stubborn, defiant, and made something inside Severus want to snap. That the boy had the audacity to try and punish _him _was unbearable. The blatant lack of respect was so very uncharacteristic of the boy he'd grown to know over the past year, yet so reminiscent of the Potter he'd seen sitting in his Potions classroom for years before that. Now, just as then, Severus felt the need to break him of this arrogance.

Now, however, that was not quite an option.

No, Severus would have to come up with a more creative way to teach his son a lesson. He would not be a parent who begged with his child to behave, nor would he react to behavior clearly meant to infuriate him.

"It's half past eight," Harry commented, looking at the watch on his wrist. "I believe that marks the end of my detention?"

"It most certainly does," Severus agreed mildly. "You are excused; I will see you tomorrow for your next detention."

"But tomorrow is Saturday."

"I am well aware," Severus sneered as he turned around and began to walk toward the castle.

"You said detention was for the rest of the week!" Harry called from behind him. "The week is already over!"

"The school week, yes," replied Severus over his shoulder. "But not _my _week. That one is very much still in effect."

Harry's sputtering and cursing faded out in the background as Severus swept back to the castle, his mind already devising a new plan to teach his wayward son a lesson.

xxx

When Harry arrived back at the common room, the last thing he wanted to see as he stormed through the portrait hole was a room filled with his friends. Naturally, however, the last thing Harry wanted to see was the first thing that greeted him.

"Harry!" shouted Seamus Finnigan, thrusting a quaffle in his direction without warning.

Straight-faced, Harry caught the ball. He looked down at it and blinked several times.

"Well, toss it back then!"

Harry briefly debated dropping the ball somewhere out of reach, but decided it wasn't Seamus he was angry at. Forcing himself to look at least slightly pleasant as he did it, he tossed the ball back to Seamus.

"Sorry, mate, rather tired tonight," said Harry, and it didn't take much to act the part. He truly was worn out. "Goodnight, everyone," he said as genially as he could muster, nodding to the group of Gryffindors who undoubtedly had expected him to join their fun. His eyes lingered momentarily on Ron and Hermione before he turned and headed up the stairs. A hush fell over the group sitting around the couches as his closest friends instantly bolted up and followed him.

Though Harry was glad to have someone to vent to, he realized as he arrived at the top of the stairs that there was only so much he was allowed to tell his friends. Severus had specifically asked that he not yet tell anyone what had transpired while he dealt with Malfoy.

With this warning in mind, Harry remained quiet as he sank down onto his bed. Ron and Hermione instantly climbed atop the bed adjacent to him, and waited eagerly for him to speak. Harry merely looked back, wishing he could tell them what had happened without saying the words.

"What?" said Ron quietly, eyes wide as though he was expecting very big news. "What is it, Harry?"

"Don't rush him, Ron," chided Hermione, although she had the same rapt expression of interest on her face.

Unable to take his friends staring at him like lions hungering for meat any longer, he broke his silence.

"You know how I've been going to Severus' office every night?" he asked, and they both nodded, as though they had expected him to lead with that. "I've been going to detentions."

"Detentions?" Ron said the word as though it tasted like poison in his mouth.

"For…for Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned dubiously, as though she must have misunderstood.

"The very same," Harry said, pressing his lips into a thin line and nodding solemnly.

"But…" said Ron, gulping down his shock, "Why?"

"It's a bit of a long story," Harry said in a breath. That was putting it mildly. "I suppose it started because I was feeling his attentions were rather divided…"

"With Kinnaird?" asked Hermione quickly, eyes narrowed.

Harry shrugged. "Among other things."

"So if that's how it started," said Ron, "How did it end?"

Again, Harry shrugged. Now that he thought about it, it was difficult to define exactly when things had gone sour. Yet, while he couldn't define how his anger had originated, he did know that it had built up to this point for a reason.

"It was a series of things…" said Harry vaguely, trying to come up with a way to explain it without giving too much away.

"You don't have to talk about it if you aren't comfortable, Harry," said Hermione gently.

"Yes he does," said Ron without missing a beat. He didn't acknowledge Hermione's grumble of annoyance.

"Let's just say, I sort of caught him in a lie, and he was rather unhappy with my reaction."

It was a simple explanation. Was it perhaps a bit one-sided? Well, if it was, rationalized Harry, it was only because he had been forbidden to say anything more.

"There's got to be more," Ron announced promptly, shaking his head.

"Harry, we'll leave you alone," said Hermione, standing and tugging at Ron's arm. Ron, however, refused to budge.

"You're telling me that git set you a _detention _over a disagreement?" queried Ron, seemingly appalled. "That's just not right."

"Ron, let's just go," pleaded Hermione, looking from the redhead to Harry, whose discomfort was apparent. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to talk to his friends; he just wasn't sure what to say to them.

"We've got to go talk to him," said Ron resolutely, surprising both Harry and Hermione. It wasn't often that Ron volunteered to interact with the Potions Master. "The last Quidditch match of the year is in less than two weeks, we can't have you in detention for something so bloody stupid."

Harry instantly regretted getting his friends involved. He hadn't forgotten about the match, but it certainly hadn't been at the forefront of his mind. Now, he knew that Ron wouldn't let the issue drop until he had dealt with these detentions effectively.

This might mean deferring to his Father, he realized with disdain. There had to be another way.

"Don't do that," said Harry tiredly. "Let me just sleep on it, and I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"Harry's got to deal with his own problems, Ron," Hermione said gently, though the way she looked at Harry suggested she was holding back an opinion of her own. What it was, Harry was unsure.

Though he looked unhappy about it, Ron finally agreed. As the two exited the dormitory, leaving Harry in peace, Harry banished the lights and tucked himself into bed. With most of the Gryffindor boys downstairs, Harry was glad he could at least have the room to himself.

As he lay in bed, trying to quiet his mind enough to drift off to sleep, he could not help but struggle with himself; over the exchange with his Father today, over the half-truths he'd been forced to deliver to his friends, and over where to go from here.

Several options lay in front of him. He could stand his ground, refusing to attend any more of his Father's ridiculous detentions. This seemed the most dangerous option. He could go to his Father and admit that everything had been blown out of proportion, and apologize for his part in it. The path of least resistance, however, was not the path that Harry normally chose. A part of him felt that by conceding so easily, he would have made no progress in earning his Father's respect.

He could also choose to complete his detentions and passively resist any attempts to goad him. He could attend his detentions every day, grit his teeth and bear it. He could hope that his Father would end his detentions after a full week had passed, as it seemed his original intent had been. Perhaps, Severus would grow tired of the silence between him and talk to Harry like an adult.

That was all he wanted, really. One, adult conversation that showed Severus respected him enough to stop deciding what his path in everything should be. Just one promise that Harry could become involved in his own fate.

After all, it was his life hanging in the balance. If he didn't trust Malfoy enough to have him involved, it should be his choice; he was the one who would have to pay the price.

xxx

The crisp morning air of April assaulted Severus' senses as he emerged from the castle. It was late in the morning; the sun had already risen high above the castle, but it was not nearly as warm as would be expected for such a sunny day.

The day would normally be described as quite beautiful; however, Severus' reason for traversing the ground was not to enjoy the sunlight and fresh air.

As he walked, Severus scanned the grounds with narrowed eyes. It was not long before he found his mark. Far in the distance, tiny figures swirled above the Quidditch pitch; flashes of maroon and gold caught Severus' eye, and he moved in their direction.

Having taken the Marauder's Map from Harry had proven to serve a greater purpose than mere punishment. It made finding the boy nearly effortless; while he always had the ability, he did not always have the inclination. With the map sitting on his desk while he corrected homework, he could not help but notice his son traipsing through the castle and grounds with one Ron Weasley.

This was certainly not Severus' idea of being on house arrest. Though he could hardly keep his son confined to his dormitory or his room at the house while school was in session, he would uphold his punishment. There were things he could do to keep the boy occupied and unable to carouse with his friends.

The detention Severus had devised for Harry today was a special one, with someone who Severus was sure could find a variety of terrible chores for Harry to attend to. He was certain that after one day of this sort of detention, Harry would be begging to be let off.

As Severus strolled up to the Quidditch pitch, he was glad to see that he had beat Harry there. Down the hill hurried his son and his redheaded friend, rushing toward the rest of the Gryffindor team flying around in the distance. It seemed that their focus was on the other Gryffindors; they paid no attention to Severus until he had intercepted their path. There, he stood with his arms folded, black robes swirling about him as he waited for them to approach.

The boys' gait slowed as they saw Professor Snape standing in front of them, effectively blocking their path. Harry's expression was one of dread and annoyance; Weasley's, full of resent.

Severus nodded once in greeting as the boys came to a halt in front of him.

"Mr. Weasley," said Severus first, turning his dark eyes on the boy; his gaze held a warning that Ron seemed to heed for the moment, though he did not look pleased to do so. "Harry," Severus then said, turning to his son. "You should come with me."

"Why?" asked Ron defensively, and Severus eyes darted back to him.

"Weasley, allow me to remind you that there are some issues between me and my son that do not require your input. Harry," Severus said dangerously, the single word a command in itself.

But Ron would not quite let it go.

"Look, Professor," he said rather brashly. "Harry already told Hermione and me, anyway…" Harry quickly shot him a warning look, a voice from inside screaming for him to shut up.

"No, I didn't," Harry snapped, looking meaningfully at his Father. Ron turned to Harry, confusion prominently displayed on his face. "Ron, it's okay, just tell everyone to do practice without me, for now."

As he sent his friend away, Harry's expression was one of utter defeat. Severus experienced a moment of regret, but immediately suppressed it. His son should know by now that should he apologize, Severus could lessen his misery. He simply couldn't be allowed to think that he could bully Severus into acting a certain way.

"Your detention today will be hosted by Mr. Filch," said Severus as he moved past Harry, leading him back towards the castle. After Harry did not respond, Severus glanced over his shoulder to see if the boy was even following him. Sure enough, Harry was trudging along, concentrating on the ground as he went.

Well, if Harry was going to spare him the argument, Severus certainly wasn't going to remark on it. The two continued in silence up to the castle, until Severus had led him all the way down to the dungeons, where Filch was waiting anxiously for him in front of a closet. His smile was vindictive as he laid eyes on Harry; Severus almost felt sorry as Harry moved dejectedly past him.

Filch shoved a net with a long handle into Harry's hands. Harry eyed it with apprehension.

"Some a' Hagrid's creatures found their way into the castle over the winter," said Filch as he turned to rummage through the closet behind him. Emerging with several steel traps, his face broke into a sadistic grin as he added, "and spawned."

Harry's eyes flew to Severus, but upon observing his expression of satisfaction at his reaction, remained silent.

As Harry dragged himself along the hall after Filch, Severus remained behind to watch their departure. He had to admit, he was surprised the boy had given no argument. He expected that by the end of this detention, however, Harry would be far more amenable to a discussion. Severus wanted to end this bout of silence just as badly as Harry certainly wanted to end the detentions.

Once Harry and Filch had rounded a corner ahead of him, Snape turned and headed in the direction of his office. Though he normally looked upon his meetings with Kinnaird as unpleasant calls to duty, he found today that he welcomed the distraction.

At the very least, Kinnaird would have something of interest to tell him. How much Severus could trust of what he said, that was a whole different issue.

This past week, Kinnaird had finally spent enough time in Voldemort's presence to have employed the skills Severus had taught him. Though he had been in and out of the castle a time or two, Severus had not dealt with him in days now.

It would be interesting, thought Severus, to see exactly what he would reveal during their meeting.

Once inside his office, he meticulously swept the area for anything he might not want Kinnaird to see. This was, after all, his home away from home. He ensured that his pensieve was stored safely away, and that organized any vials away into his locked potions cabinet. He tucked Harry's Marauder's map away in one of his desk drawers, along with a few stacks of homework. He had just finished tidying his desk when he heard Kinnaird's rapt, hard knock on the door.

In one fluid motion, Severus was seated behind his desk, glowering at the door in perfect form. One hand folded over the other and he set them neatly atop his desk.

"Come in," he commanded, and the door opened abruptly.

Kinnaird stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. He turned to face Severus, observing him from where he stood in front of the door.

Though Severus' expression had not changed a mite, he was already investigating Kinnaird for clues about how his time away from the castle had treated him. There were few; the man had no bruises or scratches, but his personal maintenance was also questionable. His previously neat, amber colored hair had darkened throughout the winter and grown a bit; he looked as though he hadn't paid attention to it in days. His eyes were hollowed out, and while he still had the young face of an adolescent, his weariness was apparent in the faint lines there.

Kinnaird didn't speak as he moved to the chair in front of Severus' desk; he was quieter than normal, already. He was normally somewhat aggressive, trying to take command of a situation before he had even entered it. It was not like him to remain subdued for so long.

"Kinnaird," said the doleful Potions Master as he observed the man before him. "We have not spoken in some time."

"Well, I have been quite busy," said Kinnaird blankly, to which Severus scowled.

"I am well aware; it is for this I have been preparing you, no?"

"Yes," said Kinnaird, shifting his weight in his chair and apparently thoughtful. "I think perhaps I should have heeded your warnings, before."

Severus' eyes narrowed even further, little more than a glint of his black iris's peaking out between slanted lids. He leaned forward in his chair, and lowered his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"I did not realize the voracity with which the Dark Lord would explore my mind," said Kinnaird, an odd grin forming at the corner of his lips.

"What did he find?" questioned Snape immediately; his whole body was tense, as though he were about to lunge from his seat and across the desk.

"Don't worry, Snape, the very few things you've told me are safe. Dumbledore helped me to extract any thoughts of concern before I went to the Dark Lord."

"Ah," was all that Severus said. Though he was considerably relaxed now, he continued to glower. Admittedly, he was quite pleased by the Headmaster's cleverness, but he dared not let it show.

"However," said Kinnaird, his eyes gleaming with some new emotion, "I did manage to direct him to the thoughts we desired."

"Very good," came Severus' seldom-given praise. "And how did he react?"

"He was happy to see Harry appearing weak in our dueling sessions," recalled Kinnaird, frowning as he tried to remember. Severus was sure it had been harrowing enough an experience that his memory of it might be foggy. "He believes you unprepared. He thinks you will wait quite some time before allowing Harry to pursue him. He knows your cautious nature."

"Will he pursue him, now?"

"It is difficult to say," said Kinnaird. "He did not speak of any plans."

He wouldn't, Severus thought to himself. The Dark Lord knew of Severus' cautious nature because it paralleled his own. The Dark Lord was careful to the point of paranoia; even if he intended to hunt Harry, he would steer Kinnaird into thinking the opposite.

This was what made Severus believe they had some time. Voldemort had many other plans to pursue before he would let Harry fight him again, and if he thought Harry was still weak, he would believe he had a little more time.

"And how is young Malfoy doing?" Severus then inquired; nothing in his expression hinted towards suspicion.

"He did not arrive until late yesterday evening," said Kinnaird. "I'm sure you aware his last weekend was rather rough." He looked to Severus for confirmation, and Severus nodded curtly, indicating that he should go on. "The Dark Lord values him, however; he cannot kill him if this spell is to work. Malfoy will be fine. Although, Professor…"

Kinnaird paused, looking ponderous. Severus waited with baited breath for him to continue; he did not want to prompt him to speak if it would affect the truth of what came out.

"He asked me a rather curious favor, last night," Kinnaird seemed to settle on saying finally, looking up at Severus with true confusion in his face. "He begged me to give him information that he could give to the Dark Lord."

"What?"

The word escaped Severus harshly; he bit it out, and then reigned back. Again, more calmly, deliberately, he repeated, "What?"

Kinnaird shook his head, and Severus felt for once that he had no agenda in telling him this; he looked honestly bewildered by the memory. "He asked if there was anything I had not yet given away that he could report to free himself from punishment. I gave him a piece of useless information you had given me, and he seemed contented. I've yet to return to see if it worked."

Severus was quiet as he digested this information. This could mean a number of things. The first, Severus thought, was that Malfoy was a coward.

This seemed a likely option.

The boy had shown up at his office just the prior day; Severus was unsure why he hadn't realized it before. The boy had not come needing vials of healing potions; he came asking how to get out of the Dark Lord's disfavor. He simply hadn't known how to ask.

The second option was that he hoped Kinnaird would tell him something useful, and hadn't realized that he in fact had done the opposite.

Though Severus had not placed any real faith in Malfoy to begin with, he found himself questioning now what the boy's real motives were. Yet, he had given them something so useful, and had asked for nothing immediate in return. His behavior was erratic, unpredictable.

"I did well, this week," said Kinnaird, breaking Severus' train of thought and refocusing his attention. "I will be called back soon, it is certain."

There was a forbidding tone to Kinnaird's voice; Severus could see that he was just now realizing exactly what service to the Dark Lord entailed. When first indoctrinated into the Death Eaters, Severus remembered, the younger members experienced nothing of the terror the Dark Lord could wrought on them. They began by frequenting seedy pubs and planning the glory the would earn in his service; they graduated to attending raids and putting their plans into action. Then, in the end, they found themselves enslaved, unable to attend to any will other than their master's.

This was what was happening to the man sitting in front of him. He had not realized how deep he was until he could not come up for air.

Though Severus still did not entirely trust Kinnaird, his belief that Malfoy was more dependable was deeply flawed. Both were unable to devote their entire selves to one side, it seemed; they had not the motivation that Severus had found in the memory of Lily.

"I think you should rest," said Severus; Kinnaird looked surprised. Surely, he had been expecting to be questioned for hours to come. "Have you relayed all of your information to the Headmaster?"

"Yes," replied Kinnaird dutifully. "He was my first visit."

"Very well," said Severus. "I will obtain the rest of your account from him; you should prepare yourself for when you are next called away."

Trustworthy or not, Severus reasoned, Kinnaird would be of no use at all if he were mentally shattered by the pressure of returning to Voldemort in an already harrowed state.

Though he did not express it, Severus could see the gratefulness in Kinnaird's eyes as he pushed himself up from his seat. With a little less strength in his gait than usual, he moved to the door, giving Severus only a nod before slipping out into the corridor.

As promised, Severus instantly rose from his seat, intent on seeing Dumbledore. Other than a few short conversations imposed on him by the Headmaster throughout the week he had fought with Harry, he and Dumbledore had not had a serious discussion in quite some time.

When Severus arrived at the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore put on his usual display of not having expected him.

"Severus," he greeted the Professor at the door, welcoming him into his office with a sweeping gesture. "How good of you to come."

It always annoyed Severus how Dumbledore treated these visits like social calls, as though Severus had nothing better to do than sip tea and banter about the social climate of the staff. Steering away from the small talk that was certain to ensue as Dumbledore prepared him a plate of biscuits, Severus launched right into the topic of query.

"I just spoke with Kinnaird," he announced as Dumbledore sat behind his desk and took a long sip of the deep violet tea in his cup. The aroma of berries wafted in Severus' direction, and he curled his lip in distaste at the offending sweetness.

Dumbledore merely nodded and took a bite of his vanilla biscuit.

"He seemed distressed," Severus commented, watching Dumbledore for a reaction.

The look in Dumbledore's eyes was sympathetic as he nodded in agreement. "That is the unfortunate thing about signing one's life away to an unmerciful master," replied Dumbledore gravely.

"I, of all people, do not need to be told that," Severus reminded him. He sometimes thought that Dumbledore forgot he had once been one of his pawns, as well. "What did you take away from the encounter? What do you believe our next move shall be?"

"I believe we have some time before Voldemort acts," said Dumbledore confidently. "However, that does not necessarily afford us any lenience. If he becomes latent, it will be the best time for us to strike. We must prepare ourselves..."

"And Harry," Severus agreed, seeing where Dumbledore was leading.

"Which brings me to another topic," Dumbledore said airily, as if they had not been speaking about grave matters a mere second before. Severus was not fooled, however; there was purpose lurking behind those deceivingly daft looking blue eyes.

"Perhaps your time is wasted struggling for power over the boy," said Dumbledore, and Severus nearly choked at his directness. The audacity of the old man was intolerable. However, he allowed him to continue without comment, curious what he had next to say. "I understand you have him attending detention with Filch this afternoon?"

"Headmaster, I have already discussed this with you," said Severus forbiddingly, unwilling to yield to Dumbledore's attempts to interfere. "It is my business how I choose to discipline my son."

"Too right you are," agreed Dumbledore mildly. "I just wonder if you are instilling a sense of defiance in the boy where you should be inspiring feelings of trust. He will need you, in these hard times, Severus."

Severus wanted to object, but he was unsure how to proceed. Dumbledore misjudged his intentions.

"I do not punish to torment him," Severus replied defensively, aggravated that he felt the need to explain himself. "I hope that he will realize how much easier his life will be if he would simply listen to me. It is an important lesson to learn."

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore. "But it is against his nature."

Severus growled and shook his head. It was true, yet he did not think that he should allow his son's nature to become one of defiance.

"His detentions are over at the end of this week," said Severus. "I will give him a few more days to consider his apology, and then I will speak to him."

"Very well," said Dumbledore affably. "Then I will leave the matter to you."

Though he was still scowling as he left the office, he had earned at least a small amount of satisfaction. The old man had finally agreed not to interfere. While it had not been a promise, for Albus Dumbledore, it was certainly the closest thing to it.

xxx

AN: Thank you for continuing to read. It gets a bit rocky at times, but it is your support that keeps me going.

The next chapter will be out soon!

Your feedback and encouragement help so much more than you realize. Please take a moment to feed my muse, and review :)


	49. Vindication

Chapter 49

Vindication

xxx

Harry sat quietly in between his friends on the common room couch, his head tilted back and eyes closed. Today was day seven of his detentions with Severus, and he hoped it would be his last.

As little as Harry cared to admit it, standing up to his Father was emotionally taxing. Yet, he knew that if he continued to let Severus treat him like a child, the man would never realize he had grown up. Harry was expected to lay his life on the line for the greater good; he thought he at least deserved to be treated like a man while he did it.

This was the message that he couldn't seem to get through to Severus. He knew he had been rash at times, but he was trying his best to remain calm throughout the process. He hadn't been late to a detention yet. He had sat and done homework diligently during every one, resolutely ignoring his Father. Certainly, he had lost his temper a time or two… but, as far as he was concerned, he was passively resisting.

Severus, however, did not seem to see it that way. No, his detentions were getting worse as time went on. Just yesterday, Harry had been forced to sort salamander parts for upwards of two hours. The problem was, these punishments only made him more and more angry. He was too infuriated to even speak to the man; he simply didn't trust himself. It was irrational.

"Harry? Are you awake?"

Opening his eyes, Harry rolled his head to the side and stared at Hermione, who was watching him expectantly.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly, grimacing.

"It's fine," Harry sighed, sitting forward and ruffling his messy black hair.

"Are you leaving soon?" Hermione asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

"In a moment," grumbled Harry, standing up and straightening his clothes. He turned away from Hermione's inquisitive eyes; his friends knew he had fought with Snape, but there was only so much Harry could tell them. Despite his anger, he was keeping everything a secret until his Father told him to do otherwise. He had no desire to incur his wrath any further. "I'm not sure how many more of these I can put up with."

"Yes, it certainly does seem unfair…" Hermione hedged delicately.

"It's bullshit, mate," Ron cut in bluntly from his place on the floor.

Both Harry and Ron looked to Hermione for her reaction, but she merely cocked her head and shrugged one shoulder. "So," Hermione said, looking as though she were struggling with herself, "what are you going to do about it?"

Immediately, Ron and Harry looked to each other. Ron's face cracked into a grin.

"You there—don't get any fancy ideas," Harry said seriously, although he was admittedly cheered by his friend's reaction. "Although, Hermione," he said, turning back to her, "what did you have in mind?"

"I haven't anything specific," Hermione offered, her eyes off somewhere far away. "But it seems to me that if Professor Snape is being unfair, someone slightly more impartial needs to intervene."

Her tone was somewhat suggestive, and Harry eyed her inquisitively. "You?"

"Of course not," said Hermione at once. "But I'm certain you could think of someone."

"Ah," said Harry, and he looked back to Ron. "Yes, I suppose I could."

"You've got an hour before your detention, mate," Ron said helpfully, exchanging glances with Hermione, who nodded.

Although Harry felt as though the idea had been planted in his mind, it suddenly seemed like something he should have thought of long ago.

"Thanks, guys," Harry said as he turned and left the common room. With only an hour to go until his hopefully final detention, he needed to hurry.

The stone gargoyle sat stubbornly in front of Dumbledore's office, refusing to yield to Harry as he tried multiple passwords.

It had been a very long time since Harry had sought Dumbledore's council. After the rather dramatic beginning to his sixth year, Harry had kept him at a distance. He supposed it was the lack of trust that had intervened whenever the urge to visit the old man struck.

Now, however, without his Father to turn to and with his friends unable to help him, Harry realized that he needed someone to listen to him. Dumbledore had always been willing to do at least that.

By the eighth tried-and-failed password, Harry was becoming impatient. With the clock ticking by until his detention—the detention that determined all subsequent detentions, or preferably, lack thereof—Harry needed to get into the office.

"Must I beg?" Harry asked rhetorically, staring exasperatedly at the statue, as though it was a person. "Please? With cherries on top?" Grumbling, he kicked the statue in frustration.

To Harry's surprise, the statue finally budged…and kept on going. As the staircase unraveled, inviting him upstairs, Harry's jaw dropped in surprise. Who would have known that all he needed was a more persuasive approach?

When Harry reached the top of the stairs and knocked on Dumbledore's office door, the response was almost immediate. The door unlatched and swung slowly open; Harry peered around the heavy oak door; seeing Dumbledore's inviting smile across the room, he stepped inside.

"Harry," Dumbledore greeted him pleasantly from his place in front of the fireplace. He looked genuinely happy to see him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I just wondered if I might speak to you about some things that have been bothering me," Harry said, getting down to the point.

"Yes, yes," said Dumbledore more somberly now, moving to his desk. Taking his cue from the Headmaster, Harry followed suit. "I remember last week you found yourself in a spot of trouble."

"Yes, I guess so…" Harry said; he realized he was not starting this conversation on equal footing. The Headmaster had already witnessed his defiance not even a week earlier. "That's actually what I wanted to speak to you about, sir."

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side and waited patiently for Harry to explain.

"I've had to attend detention every day for the past week, sir."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "I am unable to change your Father's mind, you understand."

"I know," Harry responded. "I just think that maybe, if you talked to him, he might see things differently."

"Harry," said Dumbledore, looking concerned. "Severus will not tolerate my interference with his parenting. I am of course here to offer you support and advice, but I cannot intervene. Surely you realize this."

What had at first seemed a wonderful idea now seemed like a futile effort to fix his problems. Harry hung his head in discouragement.

"I don't know what to do," he said softly. "I have always made my own decisions. I have always taken control of my own problems. But now… well, I can't take control of _this _particular problem."

"Perhaps you do not need control, so much as understanding," offered Dumbledore gently.

"I can't make him understand," Harry scoffed.

"That is because no one can _make _your Father do anything. But perhaps if you _asked_."

"Sir?"

"Your Father values respect above all things, Harry. It is the thing he lacked for so long in his life, and it sometimes rules him. He will never allow himself to acquiesce to your seeming demands. He has too much pride."

"Yes, that's the problem," said Harry cynically.

"It is not to say that I sympathize with that nature," said Dumbledore matter of factly. "But it is part of him, immutable. You can have control of your own life if only you learn how to show him respect. I think you will find a far more rational side to the Potions Master, if you can manage that."

"Yes, but Headmaster—" Harry started to say; he stopped abruptly as Dumbledore rose from behind his desk. As he began to move back to the fireplace, Harry whirled around in his chair. "What are you doing?"

"I was speaking to your Father just this morning, Harry, and after conversing with you, I believe it would be helpful to call him here."

"Please don't," Harry said immediately, instantaneously nauseated at the thought of having to face his Father at the moment. He would be so upset that Harry had gone to Dumbledore.

"The only way you two will manage to overcome your differences is if you acknowledge them," said Dumbledore sagely; there was sympathy in his expression. When Harry still did not agree, he added, "It will only replace the detention you are due for this evening."

Sighing, Harry nodded grimly. He doubted he could stop the Headmaster from telling his Father he had visited, either way—at least this way, he could explain himself. He turned back around and buried his head in his hands, nervously ruffling his hair while waiting for the flare of the fireplace to signal Severus' arrival.

"Severus?" came Dumbledore's voice from behind Harry; a moment passed before the Headmaster pulled out and closed the connection. Next, "Professor McGonagall, would you please find Severus and tell him to come to my office? Tell him the password is 'cherries'."

_Ah, _Harry thought. _Of course. _

After a moment, Dumbledore had returned to the desk in front of him.

"I hope you are not upset," Dumbledore said after a few minutes had passed. His voice was genuine, as though he did not necessarily feel anxious, but rather wanted Harry to see the positive side of this situation.

In the moment, that was a little bit difficult.

Harry was not truly upset; he was more nervous than anything. What would his Father think when he got here? Would he be angry at the ambush? Would he resent Dumbledore's interference?

Harry did not need to wait very long. It had been barely ten minutes when a hard knock pounded against the door. A jolt ripped through Harry's abdomen; adrenaline pumped through his veins, but he did not react outwardly. He held his breath, unaware of anything else but the sound of the door opening and the subsequent slow-falling footsteps moving towards him.

Harry stared down at his hands as he felt his Father's presence next to his side. After hovering over him for a moment, Severus sat in the chair next to him and stared straight ahead.

"Headmaster," he said stiffly, and then went silent, awaiting an explanation for his summons.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry evaluated his Father's hard profile. His features were drawn tight and his posture was rigid. Attempting to quell his anxiety, Harry straightened his shoulders and sat forward on his chair, looking ahead to Dumbledore, who returned his gaze with sympathy.

"I fear, Severus," started Dumbledore, authority in his voice, "that you and your son are in dire need of a conversation. I hope you will forgive me the intrusion, but I hoped that by calling Harry and yourself here, that might finally occur. I, however, will keep my own opinions to myself, true to my word, Severus."

Something like a growl escaped Severus, thankfully covering the sound of Harry's sigh of relief.

"Perhaps you should start, Harry," said Dumbledore, cutting Severus off before he had even had the chance to complain.

"Yes," said Harry, clearing his throat as a way of stalling. He knew he should be glad for the chance to get the first word, but he was utterly unprepared. "You see…" he stammered, and then cleared his throat again.

Severus' face was relatively impassive, but the look in his eyes as he stared back at the struggling boy was unforgiving.

Shaking off his nerves once more, Harry started again. "I understand why you are upset with me," Harry finally said with success, and when Severus' expression didn't darken, he felt as though he'd begun on the right foot. "But I don't think you understand why I am upset with you. And that's the part that's unfair."

Severus immediately opened his mouth to respond, but Dumbledore interjected, "Severus, perhaps you should hear what he has to say before reacting."

Severus nodded perfunctorily. "Very well," he said shortly.

"It seems like you always expect the worst from me. It's as though every time I take a step, you hold your breath, thinking I'm about to ruin everything. You don't take into account that sometimes, my intentions aren't what you think they are."

"And you don't take into account," said Severus, apparently unable to hold back, "that even if you don't _intend _to ruin everything, it is still a possibility. You expect me to just sit back and watch you cut a path of destruction through everything we've worked for?"

"_We've _worked for, or _you_?" snapped Harry. Already, his anger was mounting. "When was the last time that I decided our course of action? When was the last time I had a say in my future?"

"There is only _one_ way to defeat the Dark Lord!"

"And that's my only purpose, isn't it?"

At this, both Harry and Snape stared at each other, each party speechless. Each breathed heavily, seething, as they waited for each other's responses. Finally, Severus spoke.

"How dare you insinuate that I do not care for you?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I have risked everything for you."

"For me? Or for yourself? There seems to be only one thing you are concerned with."

"Do you think that defeating the Dark Lord is just a whim of mine? Just a flight of fancy that I hope to achieve by using you? You do realize, the only way _you _can survive is by his destruction. I have done everything I can to see that accomplished."

"Yes, so _you _can see that accomplished—"

"Because I love you, Harry. When will you get it through that thick skull of yours?"

Harry fell silent. Unsure how to respond to that, he looked back down at his lap. It seemed somehow unfair that Severus could use this sentiment as a weapon; Harry felt suddenly guilty, in a way he hadn't felt all week.

"Did you hear me, Harry?" asked Severus again; Harry was surprised he wasn't backing down out of discomfort. "I realize that this is the hardest thing you will need to accomplish in your life. I see the importance of it. And I understand that you sometimes feel helpless; what you need to understand is that it is my _responsibility _to see you through this. I am sorry that I take that too seriously for your tastes."

"I think what your Father is trying to express," cut in Dumbledore, "is that he is acting out of a desire to protect you."

Though he lifted his eyes in annoyance, Severus also inclined his head in assent.

"And I think that what you intended to express," Dumbledore continued to address Harry, "is that perhaps you require a little more autonomy."

"And trust," added Harry, and Severus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Rather than responding, however, he merely turned his attention back to the Headmaster.

"If you are satisfied with the results of your little experiment, I wonder if I might go and have a word in private with my son." His tone was even, but Harry was not fooled. There was ire lurking there, Harry was sure of it.

A part of Harry hoped, as he rose to follow Severus, that they would take the long way to his office so that he would not have to face him right away. However, as he reached for a fistful of floo powder and looked at Harry expectantly, Harry realized that he wouldn't have that luxury, today. Severus motioned for him to step through first, and Harry did so without contest.

It was only moments later that Harry stood in Snape's private rooms, awaiting his arrival. After a minute passed and he had not come, however, Harry sank into one of the chairs, head in his hands. Whatever version of his Father was about to emerge from the fireplace, he was certain it would not be a happy one.

xxx

Glittering black eyes met with those of brilliant blue, and a tacit understanding was finally reached. The message Dumbledore had been trying to communicate since Severus' and Harry's altercation the prior week finally seemed to make sense.

The gentle approach was not Severus' preferred method of dealing with sulking adolescents. He normally preferred to use a heavier hand. Yet, it now seemed that Dumbledore's reasoning for doing the opposite might have more substance to it than Severus had previously admitted. He had not needed to concede anything, and already Harry was far more pliant to his will.

Well, perhaps that was the wrong term to describe his lately querulous son. Even with the Imperius curse at work, pliant would be a stretch for that boy. But he had certainly calmed considerably. Yet, Severus had not needed to sacrifice his pride.

For once, it was possible that Dumbledore's hare-brained scheme had worked in Severus' favor…not that he would admit to any such thing.

"This was a rather bold move on your part, Headmaster," Severus said as he stepped closer to the fireplace, preparing to leave. He couldn't leave Harry unattended for longer than a moment, or he would be running rampant with jumped conclusions again. However, he could neither leave the Headmaster's presence without giving him a few choice words. Coldly, he said, "I thought we had already discussed your interference."

"Yes, and I hope you can forgive me," Dumbledore said, shaking his head as if at his own antics. "I can be terribly meddlesome, I fear."

"You do not fear enough," grumbled Severus as he climbed into the fireplace. He glanced over his shoulder at the Headmaster, who looked quite pleased with himself. He appeared entirely unaffected by the reprimand.

"I upheld my word," said Dumbledore simply. "I did not orchestrate anything other than the conversation you already promised you would have with him. It seems I am not the only one unable to keep my entire word, Severus."

With no grounds to stand on for criticizing the Headmaster, Severus suddenly found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Unable to find a fitting response, he merely glared at the Headmaster as his body erupted into green flames.

"Private Quarters of Severus Snape," he spat as though it were an insult, before disappearing from Dumbledore's view.

xxx

When the Potions Master finally stepped out of the fireplace in his quarters, unfolding his long body to rise to his intimidating height, Harry suspected that he had lingered for a moment with a few choice words for Dumbledore. Snape mentioned nothing of the sort, but rather gestured for Harry to take a seat. While Harry expected Snape to do the same, the dark man began pacing in front of the fireplace. His steps were slow and deliberate, and he drummed his fingers against each other as though he were contemplating his next move.

"I suspect…" Severus began after a period of deliberation. Harry held his breath; he knew that Dumbledore's plan had been doomed to fail. He wasn't sure why he had gone along with it. "There is much more to this situation than you have presented."

Harry remained quiet; he wasn't sure if he should immediately confess, or if he should deny it with all the strength he possessed.

"I hope that without the Headmaster here to interfere, you might speak more freely."

Harry instantly opened his mouth to defend himself; yet, when he finally heard the words that Severus had spoken, he realized there was no need.

Was it possible that this had worked? Was it possible that his Father had merely lacked understanding of what Harry was going through? Dumbfounded, he stared at his Father.

"I still do not approve of your actions this past week," Severus said with a rather stern glare. "And you should consider yourself lucky that the Headmaster sheltered you from my further displeasure, today. However, I have not enjoyed being at odds with you any more than you have. If you feel that the problem is that I do not listen to you, I am giving you this opportunity to speak your mind."

With this, Severus sat, folding his hands and placing them neatly atop his knees. His eyes were watchful as he awaited Harry's response.

Though a moment of hesitation ensued, when Harry finally found the words to speak, it seemed as though he couldn't stop. It took quite some time for Harry to explain the events of the prior week from his point of view, but when he finally finished, he felt as though he had been stripped of the anger that had controlled him for so long. Dumbledore had not been so far from the truth; by acknowledging their differences, perhaps he and his Father could mend what had been broken.

Now, thought Harry, if only he could get his Father to share this sentiment. The wizened man sat across from him, looking deep in thought—his expression had not changed in some time now.

Harry fought the recurring inclination to pester Severus for a response. He normally would have been grateful merely for the fact that he was not being shouted at; not even a gentle reprimand had come his way since he had started speaking. However, his Father's stoicism was often far more intimidating than any shouting could be. He could not help but wonder what that meant for him.

At last, Severus spoke.

"I believe I have identified the problem," he stated, sitting erect and uncrossing his arms. He placed his palms on the sides of the chair with his body positioned forward; with his hair falling into his face, he somehow looked far more intimidating than he had while apparently contemplating Harry's fate.

Severus continued without prompt. "You and I apparently disagree on which problem we are dealing with."

Harry blinked once, and replied blankly, "...I'm fairly certain we're talking about the same situation."

"No," Severus objected. "I have been listening to you; you speak of the events prior to our encounter in the hospital wing. I have labored under the assumption that our greatest problems originated during that encounter."

"So, to be clear," Harry started perplexedly, "You think the greatest problem is that you didn't realize I was angry _before _our fight?"

"Of course I realized you were," said Severus. "But I think you are using the problems we were dealing with then to explain your actions now. This is where we fail to communicate. All this week, you have been trying to fight a battle that started long ago. I have been angered by your lack of respect after a completely rash act. We have been antagonizing each other."

"I've just felt I couldn't do anything to make you listen."

Severus' eyes narrowed as though he suspected an insult lurked there. He settled on replying evenly, "As a private individual, I do not often discuss my feelings with others. I suppose I have neglected that aspect of your personality."

Harry was not entirely sure how to interpret that, but he decided that he'd rather not discuss it.

"So, now what?" asked Harry, having honestly no idea how to proceed. Though he was glad that everything was now out in the open, he did not have great confidence in his Father to suddenly see things his way.

"I will lift your punishment," replied Severus slowly, watching his son's reaction. When Harry simply continued to wait, Severus went on. "But I am only doing so because you have reached the end of your week, and I believe you have effectively served your sentence. This neither means that I regret my actions, nor that I approve of yours. I expect you to begin acting like the adult you presume to be treated as. If you do not, you may be certain that _this _punishment will seem like a week's stay in paradise. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes…" said Harry definitively. There was certainly no room for misunderstanding; however, he wanted to make sure he was clear, also. "And will you consider the things I have said?"

Severus appeared to struggle with himself for a moment; he didn't seem to want to relent. "I hope," he began neutrally, "that _you _will learn to take advantage of having a Father who has already made most of the mistakes one can make in life. I can only help you as much as you let me. I will consider the things you have said, of course. However, I think you should realize there is value in my instruction."

"It's not that I don't…" replied Harry. "I just don't think you see any value in my judgments. I wish you would place more trust in me."

"I wish you would earn it."

The bite of Severus' tone stung Harry, but when he looked up at his Father's face, he could see he had not meant it as a barb. He appeared to be speaking honestly.

"It will not be long before your seventeenth birthday, Harry. There are a number of possibilities ahead," said Severus, and Harry nodded in agreement. "This has not escaped me. However, you must start acting the part. If you are to be treated like an adult, you are to act like one. That is my only stipulation."

"Fair," said Harry slowly, as though he were contemplating the terms of his surrender. "But you should realize that sometimes, I think I am acting like an adult and you are overreacting."

"Don't be foolish, Harry," his Father warned. _Do not test my patience_ is what his Father implied. Harry understood this implicitly, even though it had not been said out loud.

"You must earn my respect one day at a time," Severus was saying now. "But I will make a greater effort to communicate with you."

"And to the matter of Malfoy…"

Harry knew he was pushing his boundaries, but he hoped that his Father would allow it. As expected, Severus looked as though he were debating how to answer.

"Harry, I am not so naïve," Severus said at length, eyebrow twitching upward in exasperation. "You seem to think I have fallen into some trap Malfoy has carefully laid for me."

Harry did not respond verbally, but his expression was affirmative; Severus scoffed.

"As far as I'm concerned, Malfoy has always held an unnatural amount of persuasion over you," Harry remarked.

"Excuse me?" Snape responded in a low, deadly tone.

"I just mean," said Harry, becoming flustered now, "He has always been one of your favorite students, even though he's a prat, and—"

"Harry…"

Harry hated when his Father used his name as a warning. The implicit threat that his first name carried whenever his Father uttered it in that low baritone never failed to send shivers up his spine. It somehow was even more personal than when he had done the same to the word 'Potter'.

"Sorry," Harry said to quell his Father's anger, sounding defeated. "Let me try again."

"Spare me," muttered Severus dryly, rolling his eyes, and Harry realized he meant that literally. "You understand that I act only out of necessity, Harry. I know you comprehend that fact when you are using the rational, mature part of your brain. However, the side of you that comes out when you are striving for attention and fighting the plague of jealousy is not at all flattering. I have never cared for Malfoy more than any other Slytherin. It has always been my relationship with his Father and my precarious position that dictated my behavior. Even now, I act on my own agenda…not because Malfoy has made me his minion."

"But I don't trust him—"

"And that is _wise_," Severus hissed. "Incidentally, neither do I. I do not trust anyone. You never need fear that I wrongly believe the best in someone."

The harshness in Severus' voice as he spat the last words caused Harry to unconsciously press back against his chair a bit; he remained quiet as Severus continued.

"Malfoy has given us what Kinnaird never could. His immediate access to the Dark Lord is a greater stroke of luck than you could ever imagine. The Dark Lord _chose _him; he does not think that Draco would betray him. Not when he has promised him unimaginable power; he doesn't realize that the young Malfoy is far more cunning than his own Father."

"Yes," said Harry in a low voice, "but that is what makes him so untrustworthy. He's been raised by great manipulators; he now surpasses even their skill. How can you be certain he is not manipulating _you_?"

"It goes both ways, Harry. Malfoy should realize how limited my range for sympathy is; his efforts to manipulate my affections are wasted on me. However, he is still young; you might be surprised how my support can sway his loyalties far better than the Headmaster's can."

"Is that why you still haven't told Dumbledore everything that's happened?"

Severus hesitated before answering; it was as though he were trying to decipher the intent with which Harry had made the statement before responding. "Once Dumbledore realizes what Malfoy has provided us with, he will see it as vulnerability on Draco's part. He will see it as an opportunity to sway his loyalties once and for all. However, I fear that this will only repel the boy. I must have some time to work on him, before this happens. I will tell the Headmaster soon, but for now, I must have time. I am not deceptive for the joy of it; I act as the situation requires."

A very Slytherin answer, Harry observed. "But then, how can you be upset with me for acting as _I _think a situation requires?" Harry asked carefully.

Rather than reacting with the derision Harry had momentarily expected, Severus instead appeared to mull over this question for a few moments.

"Harry, I realize that you are simply acting in a way that comes naturally to you," said Severus, more gently now. "What I would ask you to consider is that the inclination to rely solely on your own judgment is no longer a necessary adaptation. You are not alone, anymore."

In a way, Harry could see the wisdom in these words. He did have a habit of acting without guidance, simply because that had become habit over his many years without a parental figure in his life. And while he was at the age when he should be making many of his own decisions, he realized he was not the average adolescent. The decisions he had to make were much heavier than those of the average young wizard.

On the other hand, Harry knew that this was the argument that kept his Father continually treating him like a child.

"Why didn't you just tell me in the first place that you didn't trust him?" asked Harry, shifting the subject back to the topic he most wished to discuss. "I would have been much happier to know you agreed with me, but instead you made me believe otherwise. Why?"

"I did not want to reinforce your already negative opinions of a potential ally," explained Severus with ease. "I did not confide my doubts in you because I was trying to allay yours."

Harry could feel his Father's eyes on him even as he shifted his own to the ground. It was not long before Severus spoke again.

"It has been a long day. Perhaps it would be best to put this topic to bed, along with yourself."

Mentally fatigued and still reeling from the stress of the day's events, Harry was quick to comply.

At the door, Harry looked back at Severus. "Talk tomorrow?" He asked tentatively.

Lips quirking just slightly, Severus' only response was a slow nod.

"Ok," said Harry, glad that the man's demeanor was finally warming up. "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Harry."

xxx

The dim light of early morning pried Harry's eyes open, pulling him from a deep slumber. On the edge of consciousness, he yawned sleepily and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, refusing to fully awaken. He rolled peacefully on to his side, away from the window and into his pillow, and sleep beckoned him back.

_Harry. _

The voice was a hushed whisper, barely registering in Harry's insensible brain. Harry smacked his lips against the stickiness of his morning mouth, and snuggled deeper under the covers.

_Harry! _

The voice was closer now; a more insistent version of the same hushed tones.

Harry groaned and pulled the covers over his head. Finally, he began to drift back into the deep sleep he so desperately required.

"Harry!" The voice hissed one last time, before a shadow at the edge of his mind appeared in his hazy vision, reaching out and striking him on the arm.

Abruptly, Harry bolted upright in his bed, and promptly smacked his head on something hard and impenetrable. His exclamation was a howl of pain, immediately met with a response.

"Bloody hell!" barked the voice in the dark, as a tall, loping figure staggered backwards from his bed. Harry squinted into the dim light of the dormitory.

"Ron?" he asked in confusion, as it became apparent that the impenetrable force with which his head had unfortunately met was in fact the very thick skull of his redheaded friend.

"Shut up!" a cross voice grumbled from another bed within the dormitory. Harry shook his head, blinking the blurriness from his sight. Rubbing his forehead in agony, he stared up at Ron, who was still hovering over his bed, muttering profanities and doing the same. He watched him in confusion for a moment, before Ron reached out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him from the bed and leading him out of the dormitory.

"Ron, what in hell—" Harry was growling in protest as the other boy shut the door behind him. Harry shivered against the cool air of Gryffindor tower, staring down at his bare feet, peeking out from the trouser legs of his maroon pajamas. Looking over at his friend, he saw that he was already dressed. He frowned confusedly. "It's barely five in the morning…"

"You won't care, when you hear what I have to say," Ron said forebodingly, beckoning him to follow down the stairs to the common room. There, Hermione sat waiting with anticipation on the couch.

"Well, what is it then? And why are you two already dressed?" asked Harry grumpily, folding himself tiredly into the chair across from Hermione. The glowing fire nearby warmed him. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin there, eyes attempting to flutter closed even in the brightly lit common room.

"We never got _undressed_, Harry," said Hermione in a hushed voice, her eyes darting about the room.

"We followed Malfoy tonight, Harry," said Ron seriously, and Harry nearly leapt from his chair.

"What?" he gasped, turning an accusatory stare on Hermione. This was so out of character, for her.

Hermione seemed to read the recrimination in Harry's eyes loud and clear. She shrunk down in her chair and grimaced. "I wanted to go get Dumbledore!" Hermione objected, splaying her hands out helplessly. "But Ron wouldn't come with me, he was going to go alone, and I didn't want something to happen to him…" she excused feebly. "And then, once we had discovered where he was going, he almost caught us, and we had to climb a tree, and then we couldn't leave or we would give ourselves away, and—"

"Never mind that," said Ron impatiently, effectively hushing Hermione, whose head was cradled in her hands now. "The important thing is what we learned—"

"Ron, what are you doing following him? You have no idea how dangerous he could be! Where did you go?"

"He went to meet Lucius Malfoy, Harry."

"Well, that _is _his Father, after all…"

"Snuck out of the castle in the middle of the night and went down the forest to see him," said Ron as though Harry had never spoken. "We wouldn't have been there, except we were visiting Hagrid—"

At the betrayed look on Harry's face, Hermione quickly explained, "We only went without you because you were with Professor Snape so late—"

"On our way back, we saw Malfoy leaving the castle, so we moved to the shadows of the tree line, hoping to see where he was going—"

"Of course, he was heading right towards us; we realized too late."

"But he walked straight past us, he barely even noticed." The pride in Ron's voice was unmistakable; Harry privately thought that he was a little too proud of his luck, but said nothing. He was eager to hear the resolution to this story.

"Ron, calm down. Hermione, what happened from there?"

Ron scowled sourly; Hermione swallowed, took a deep breath, and picked up from where Ron had left off. She spoke in purposeful, calm tones, choosing her words carefully.

"Once we were clear of Malfoy, I wanted to go back to the castle," said Hermione, aiming a dark look Ron's way. "However, as I mentioned before, Ron was already set on following him. To shorten a rather long story, by the time we'd caught up to him, we were in the worst place we could hope to be—right between him and his Father. The only place to go was up."

Ron, apparently impatient, began speaking again. "Harry, I'm prepared to go to Snape tomorrow and show him what we saw, if it will make him believe that Malfoy is not trustworthy—"

"No!" Harry protested quickly, and both Ron and Hermione stared at him with shocked expressions.

"Harry, I know you said the Professor lifted your detentions, but I thought you wanted him to understand your feelings toward Malfoy—"

"Never mind that," deflected Harry. "What did you overhear?"

The apprehensive look that Hermione aimed at Ron, and the grave one that Ron returned worried Harry. Neither spoke for a moment, and Harry said insistently, "Tell me!"

"Malfoy told his dad that he had Snape wrapped around his finger," Ron said solemnly; his expression was as serious as Harry had ever seen it. "He wasn't lying, Harry."

"What _exactly _did he say?" demanded Harry. The authority in his tone was more than Hermione and Ron were used to. Both fell silent, seemingly unable to respond. Becoming increasingly irritated, he barked, "Tell me!"

Visibly shaken by Harry's increasing anger, Hermione answered him. "He said…" she responded softly, pausing for a moment, and then continuing, "He said, 'I told Snape everything as you instructed. That _boy _will no longer be a problem; the Professor will see to that.'"

Still not satisfied, Harry said in the same tone, "And what else?"

Hermione shook her head and looked down at her hands. Her eyes slanted sideways to Ron, who was staring at her with a determined look in his eye.

"Let him have it, Hermione," prompted Ron, but still she didn't respond.

At her failure to speak, Ron turned back to Harry. "He told him that Snape had promised to keep his secrets from you, Harry."

"That's impossible."

"He said, 'Snape knows my loyalty hangs in the balance. He won't jeopardize that, even if it means deceiving Dumbledore's _golden boy._' What exactly do _you _think that means, Harry?"

"Harry," said Hermione softly, chewing on her lip as she waited for his acknowledgement. His eyes flew to her, although the rest of his body remained still. "Of course Professor Snape would never betray you intentionally, but if you had heard the way Malfoy was talking about him…"

"My Father is not an idiot," said Harry. He wished he could simply tell his friends what was going on; he felt like he was lying to them, even when he was only doing ask he had been asked. "What else did he say?"

"He was so vague, it's hard to say," said Hermione. "It sounded as though they were trying to find a way for Malfoy to sneak out of the school more easily, though. As if they were planning a place to convene close enough to the school that he could slip out at any time."

"We'll have to keep an eye on him," said Ron decisively.

"We'll _have _to be careful," said Harry; Ron's expression was one of perplexity. "I'm serious, Ron. My Father will put a stop to this right quick if he gets wind of it. You must promise not to breathe a word to him. We'll keep an eye on Malfoy… but we have to be smart about it. Understand?"

"I wish you could have been there, Harry," said Ron. He shook his head, as though he though Harry did not understand the magnitude of the situation. "I thought you wanted Snape to understand why he was wrong to trust Malfoy…"

"I did!"

"You _did_," Ron repeated. "And then what, Harry? Snape once again manipulated you into seeing things his way?"

"Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.

"What, Hermione? He's not supposed to use his own head, anymore? He's just supposed to abide by every rule Snape's set for him?"

"He clearly cares for Harry, Ron, he wouldn't do anything to deliberately harm him."

"Not deliberately, no," agreed Ron. "But we know he won't listen to Harry, so maybe it's time we stepped in. It's our duty to support our friend, Hermione. Harry, if you won't listen to us, and Snape won't listen to you—"

"Enough," said Harry, standing and effectively blocking Ron's gaze, which was locked on Hermione. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"But, Harry—"

"Listen, it's not that I'm ungrateful," Harry placated him. "It's just that I'm already in hot water; I can't afford another mistake. We'll watch him, alright? We'll watch him like a hawk. But we _will not _tell my Father anything about it, okay?"

"Harry, as much as I hate to agree with Ron," said Hermione, and Ron snorted before she continued, "He's right. We've got to go to Snape with this. Wouldn't that be better than handling it on your own?"

"Maybe," responded Harry, wishing his friends would quit badgering him. "But right now, it's too early to do anything, and," he added, pointedly to Hermione, "we have double potions in the morning. Don't you want to get some sleep?"

Hermione sighed reluctantly and rose from the couch. The purple tinged skin under her eyes hinted at her exhaustion; it was clear that she didn't have the compunction to continue arguing.

Ron, however, was not budging. "Harry," he said, almost pleading, "When did you stop listening to your instincts? They weren't so bad, mate. You know you've got to act on this."

"My instincts haven't been so great, either, Ron," Harry said with a wince, thinking back to the traumatic events at the Ministry. It had been about this time, the prior year… Harry sighed. He didn't know what he was going to do with this information. Severus had told him explicitly that he didn't trust Malfoy; how would he react if after that very conversation, Harry was running to him with his suspicions a mere few days later?

On the other hand, thought Harry, he had also asked that Harry consult him before acting on anything that had to do with Malfoy. Harry did not want to cry wolf, though, only to be brushed to the side the next time he had a legitimate concern.

No, Harry would have to find a better way to show Severus what he wanted him to see about Malfoy. The man said he didn't trust the boy, but it was clear that he had far greater faith in him than Kinnaird. Harry knew that the mistrust of the other spy led him to see Malfoy through rose-tinted lenses.

Harry needed more time to deal with Severus, but his friends weren't going to let it lie. He wouldn't put it past them to go to his Father before he had the chance to, causing problems even as they attempted to solve them. Even worse, they might go straight past his Father, and straight to Professor Dumbledore.

"Harry," said Ron insistently, stirring Harry from his thoughts. "I know what I saw. You can't ignore this."

The determination in Ron's steady gaze had Harry shaken. Ron's persistence was certain to disrupt whatever plan Harry could formulate.

"Listen," said Harry, lowering his voice. "I'm going to tell you something…but you must promise not to tell _anyone_. Not even Dumbledore. Got it?"

Hermione was instantly back in her seat, waving for Ron to do the same. Ron looked suspicious, as though Harry was trying to throw them off the scent of something, but he found his place next to Hermione and leaned toward Harry, listening.

"Severus already knows that Malfoy is a snake; however, Malfoy is also providing him with more concrete advantages than Kinnaird."

"What do you mean, concrete advantages?"

"Hermione- the last ingredient for the Potion that we could not acquire on our own; Malfoy secured it. My Father hasn't even told Dumbledore yet."

"Oh." The sound escaped Hermione in a puff of air, as though someone had knocked it out of her. "That explains why he hasn't sent for me, recently… Harry, he's sure? He's sure it's legitimate?"

"As far as I can tell," responded Harry. "And he's afraid Dumbledore's going to interfere as soon as he tells him."

"So what you're telling me," said Ron slowly, "is that Snape's in a league with Malfoy and they're keeping it from Dumbledore?"

Harry wanted to pull all of his hair out in frustration. "Ron, think about what you're suggesting. You really think that my own Father is working against me?"

"Well, I suppose not," answered Ron reasonably. "I'm not really sure what to think, to be honest."

"You'll have to leave that to me, for now," said Harry.

"I suppose we don't have a choice," agreed Hermione reluctantly. "But don't keep this from the Professor too long, Harry. It's important."

xxx

It was only the perfect timing of Harry's hooked finger in back of Hermione's collar which prevented her head from hitting the desk as she slumped forward. She quickly jolted back to life at the shock of being jerked back into her chair, and shot an apologetic look as she straightened in her chair once again, brought back to life.

It was as though Professor Snape was really trying to lull his students to sleep, today. Normally, double Potions on Thursday mornings was only bearable due to the fact that the students were moving about so quickly to finish their projects in the allotted amount of time, no one had time to allow the sleeplessness of the past week to catch up to them.

Lecture, however, was inevitable on some days; Harry simply wished that Severus hadn't chosen such an inconvenient one. His furtive glance to the front of the room found Severus' eyes resting steadily on Hermione as he continued speaking to the rest of the class; the only sign that he had noticed her sleepiness was the slight raising of his eyebrows as he made eye contact with Harry, who was still grasping her arm, attempting to keep her from drifting off again.

Harry pretended not to have noticed Snape's gaze, and Severus continued lecture without comment. Harry breathed a sigh of relief at not having been reprimanded in front of the class. Glancing back at Hermione, he saw that she was back to her normal self. She was bending over her notes, writing furiously. She had drawn a thick black line through the scribbles her penmanship had morphed into as she became drowsier and drowsier.

Looking discretely past Hermione, Harry's eyes fell on Draco Malfoy's empty seat. He had only returned to classes a few days prior, and now, already, he was missing again.

"Perhaps you could tell us," Professor Snape was saying in the background, and suddenly a hard elbow in Harry's ribs alerted him to the fact that the remark was aimed in his direction.

"Mr. Potter," Severus spat out in distaste, the expression on his face reading loud and clear that he resented having to use that name, but for lack of appropriate options, had little choice in the matter.

"Sorry?" Harry asked; Severus' eyes narrowed, but he looked somehow satisfied that he had caught him not paying attention.

"The properties of ground crocodile claws, what are they?" Severus snapped.

"They are a fortifying ingredient," Harry responded automatically; only the slight raising of Severus' eyebrows gave away his surprise at the quick answer.

"Ah, I see someone has done his reading," remarked Severus snidely, then redirected his attention to the rest of the class. "And as such, quite necessary to a strengthening potion as complex as the one we will be beginning today. It is a three step process, so you will perform each step in increments over the next week…"

Though he knew better, Harry's thoughts trailed back to Malfoy's empty seat as Severus continued to speak. There was a part of him that was glad he was not in attendance today; it would be difficult to conceal the resentment Harry held for him. Even further, he was certain that if his Father were to notice all three of them bearing the signs of sleeplessness, he would connect the dots all too easily.

Yes, just as well, thought Harry, even if he did begrudge Malfoy the ability to skip class at a whim. It seemed he had hardly attended school this year. Yet, thought Harry, with the fate awaiting him after graduation, class attendance hardly seemed necessary.

If only they could just expel him, for good. Frowning, Harry shook these thoughts from his head and began copying the notes that Hermione had been scribbling next to him. Even if Malfoy was not required to learn these things, that didn't mean Harry was off the hook.

At the front of the room, Severus finally finished his lecture and turned to the board to write out the instructions for the rest of the class. As he did so, he allowed his eyes linger on Harry and Miss Granger for a moment longer. This was certainly unusual behavior for the two of them, especially for the girl. Attentiveness was one of her finer qualities; today, however, it was greatly diminished.

As he wrote out the lists of ingredients, he contemplated Harry's behavior as well. It was not unusual for the boy to show up to class rather tired, normally a result of a week's worth of procrastination having caught up with him the night before. The correlation of Miss Granger's behavior, however, also suggested causation.

Severus, however, had spent interim since his and Harry's discussion the prior Sunday putting his promises into practice. He had quelled the urge to snap at the girl as she blatantly drifted to sleep, despite the cleverness of the remark he'd contemplated. And, true to his word, he was attempting to dispel the suspicions that were naturally rising in his mind as he contemplated the odd scenario.

That wasn't to say, however, that suspicion was totally absent.

Once he had set the timer for the students' deadline, Severus leaned back against his desk and watched the pairs scramble for their Potions ingredients. It was not long before each set of partners was back at their workbenches, diligently crushing crocodile claws and separating viper scales. With everyone at work, the Potions Master began to make the rounds, weaving slowly and silently through the desks, evaluating the students' work with an expression of dispassion.

When he came upon Harry and Hermione, the two worked faster, as though to discourage him from commenting. He lingered there, and he could see the tension in the rigid lines of their shoulders as they stared down at their work, as though they didn't know he was there.

Rounding the desk, Severus stood in front of the two students, so that they couldn't ignore his presence.

"Late night, Miss Granger?" Severus inquired very quietly, so that no one could hear. She glanced nervously up at him.

"And you, Harry? You're looking rather tired, as well." Severus added before Hermione could respond, looking to his son. Harry fidgeted uncomfortably.

Severus nodded slowly, as though taking their nervousness for an answer in itself. "I hope that your _extracurricular activities_ will not interfere with your performance," he said warningly. "Very volatile ingredients we are working with, today."

With that, Severus stepped away from their desk, aiming a meaningful look at his son. Hermione blushed furiously and worked even faster at the potion's preparation.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Hermione whispered out of the corner of her mouth, "See? We _have _to talk to him. He already knows something's going on."

Of course he did, Harry thought privately. But Severus always thought he _knew _something was going on. As long as he thought it was the wrong thing, they were safe from discovery.

"Don't be so paranoid. And stop," Harry admonished her, taking the mortar and pestle from her hands. "These are already done."

"Oh," said Hermione, staring down at the fine powder in the small bowl. "Sorry," she said, and turned her attention to the boiling base in their cauldron.

Harry kept his eyes down on the project; he didn't want his Father to see the nervousness on his face. He would do his best to complete this portion of the potion without error, and escape to his next class quickly after the period was over. He wouldn't give his Father a chance to question him.

The remainder of the class period moved smoothly along, and when Professor Snape finally announced that it was time to clear their work stations, Harry and Hermione did so in tandem, finishing before a majority of the students. After stashing the last of their ingredients in the stock closet, they had only to place their labeled Potions base on Severus desk.

With the flask of liquid held tight in her hand, Hermione approached Severus' desk, avoiding eye contact as she set it there. As soon as it made contact with the desk, she and Harry quickly turned to leave.

"Not so fast," Severus said softly, leaning nonchalantly back in his chair and watching them with glittering eyes. "I think you should remain just a moment."

"We'd love to, but we've got to get to—"

"Lunch?" asked Severus smoothly, black eyebrows furrowing over blacker eyes. "It will still be there when we've finished. I won't hold you long," he promised; but the promise in his voice was so much darker than that.

And so Harry and Hermione waited until the Potions classroom had emptied; after the last student had exited the room, Severus turned to Hermione. "Firstly, ten points from Gryffindor, for falling asleep in class."

Not for the first time, Hermione's face flushed pink. She did not object, however.

"Secondly, I am not quite sure what exactly is keeping you up so very late at night," he said, looking up at his son from under hooded eyes, "but I suggest you do not allow it to interfere with your class performance again."

"Okay." Harry swallowed, trying to relieve the dryness of his mouth. "Is there anything else?"

"I don't know," replied Severus. "Is there?"

The lack of emotion in his face and the innocence of his tone might seem benign to the untrained eye, thought Harry, but he detected the suggestion in the question. Hermione was watching him nervously, waiting for his response.

"No," said Harry, feigning an expression of befuddlement. "Of course not."

Beside him, Hermione exhaled loudly. He resisted the urge to aim a dirty look her way.

"Very well," said Severus evenly, eyes glittering as he smiled deceptively. "Enjoy your lunch, then."

"Thanks," said Harry, reaching out and grabbing Hermione's arm. He pulled her towards the door before her overly expressive face could give anything else away.

"Oh, and Harry," Severus called just as Harry had stepped out the door. Harry poked his head back in the office.

"Yes?" he answered, not without trepidation.

"Just a reminder that we will be leaving for the house tomorrow evening," said Severus without looking up from the paper on his desk. "That is all."

"Okay. See you then," Harry said, relieved, and disappeared back into the hallway again.

As soon as the door had closed, Severus raised his gaze and shook his head to himself. He set down his quill and straightened the pile of papers before placing them back in their drawer. As he shuffled the stacks around in there, Harry's map caught his eye; he had not yet returned it.

After a moment of deliberation, he pulled the map out of the drawer and set it atop his desk. "I solemnly swear," droned Severus, rolling his eyes, "that I am up to no good."

He tapped the map, and his eyes scanned for his son. Sure enough, he stood conglomerated with the figures of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, only a few corridors away from his office. Severus' eyes narrowed in further suspicion; clearly, Weasley had been waiting there for them to emerge from class, rather than meeting them in the Great Hall. Yet, there was nothing sinister about Harry meeting his friends on the way to lunch.

From the way that his son and friend had left his office squirming under his gaze, he was certain he had put enough fear into them to keep them from acting too rashly. That, for now, would have to be good enough.

Despite his desire to continue watching, Severus folded the map and placed it safely back in the drawer. A time would come when Harry revealed himself; whether it was intentional or not, that was another story. Still, Severus had enough faith in the boy's inherent Gryffindor nature that he would not be able to keep any secret for too long. To himself, Severus chuckled derisively.

It was both a blessing and a curse that his son was predictably reckless. At the very least, thought Severus, the boy certainly was consistent.

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: Thanks to Trish and Dawn for all their help.

Your reviews are always so appreciated. Thanks to those who take the time to do so; to those who keep coming back, and to those who keep me doing the same.


	50. White Magic

Chapter 50

White Magic

xxx

Living in Gryffindor Tower offered its fair share of advantages and disadvantages. One of the perks of living with a group of noisy boys, Harry liked to think, was that the commotion of the dormitory at breakfast time always served as an effective wakeup call.

This morning, however, it served as little more than an annoyance; for Harry had already been awake for several hours.

As he lay in his bed with the curtains pulled closed, he contemplated whether or not he should join his comrades in the mass exodus down to breakfast. This morning, a warm plate of bangers and eggs did not seem enough incentive to brave the chaos of the Great Hall in his current state of exhaustion.

He shouldn't have been so tired, and he certainly shouldn't have been so stressed. He had put himself to bed rather early the previous evening; Severus had kept him occupied right up until curfew, but after that, he had dutifully returned to his dormitory. It was not a conscious decision to stay awake; it was only that his rapidly firing brain would not give him a moment's peace in which he could find rest.

It had been a long week for Harry, and he couldn't deny that while he was in desperate need of a weekend, he also had a bad feeling about his Father's intentions for taking him away for the entire duration. When he had been reminded of the trip the previous evening, he had sensed an unspoken promise in Snape's words. The promise seemed to be to discover whatever Harry was hiding for him… and with his many years spent as a spy, a Professor, and above all, a Slytherin, Harry was certain there was nothing he could conceal from the Potions Master if he was trying to discover it.

Not that Harry was really hiding anything, he excused to himself. Certainly, he had neglected to tell him what his friends had revealed…but not without reason. Now, with Severus already suspicious and with a full weekend of uninterrupted father and son time ahead of them, Harry needed to find a way to reveal what he had been told without upsetting the delicate balance between his Father's wrath and approval.

"Harry?" called a voice through his curtains, and Harry groaned instantly. "Mate?"

"What, Ron?" called Harry irritably, covering his face with a pillow as Ron yanked the crimson curtains aside and peered in at Harry.

"You're going to miss breakfast."

After yet another sleepless night, Harry's state was rapidly deteriorating, and he did not have the patience to explain how desperately he needed some time in the empty dormitory before starting his day of classes. However, the expectant expression Ron wore as he waited for Harry to get out of bed was not one to be argued with. For one split second, Harry could almost swear he saw Mrs. Weasley peering out from behind Ron's pale eyes, beseeching him to eat.

"Fine," he grumbled, rolling out of bed. He quickly changed into his school uniform and began looking about for his loafers.

Ron waited impatiently, and when Harry began to look for his tie, he finally objected, "There's no time for that, Harry. Breakfast started _minutes _ago, we have to go. Well?" he insisted, when Harry had followed him to the door. "Come on, then! One day without a tie won't kill you."

"Fine, fine," Harry agreed, jogging a few steps forward to catch up with Ron, who was already heading quickly down the dormitory stairs. Ron continued to move quickly as he moved toward the portrait hole; Harry almost needed to trot to keep up with him.

Ron disappeared from sight for just a moment as he exited the common room; just behind him, Harry leapt through the portrait hole, trying to catch up. As he arrived on the other side, however, he abruptly collided with Ron's lanky form, stumbling over him as the other boy fell forward.

Everything was a tangle of limbs and robes as Harry and Ron struggled to disengage from each other and stand upright. Ron's face was furious and red as he straightened his robes, but Harry, for his part, was not concerned with his friend's embarrassment.

With folded arms, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, and a hooded gaze, Professor Snape leaned against the wall there, looking simultaneously sinister and amused.

"In a hurry, I see," he remarked as the two boys stood there lamely, unable to invent an appropriate response.

"Yes, just seeing that Harry here gets some breakfast in him," said Ron somewhat breathlessly. "So, we'll be going now—"

"Not so fast, Mr. Weasley," Severus intoned, looking down his angular nose at the two boys. "Harry will not be joining you, this morning."

Ron's objection to this was clear; he instantly scowled and looked to Harry, as though asking permission to retaliate. Harry shook his head, and waved a hand at him. "Go ahead, Ron. I'm not hungry, anyway."

"Well," said Ron brusquely, pausing as he straightened his robes. He looked Severus up and down in a fashion that caused the older man to glare, but he didn't seem to care what response he earned. "Alright, then. I'll see you later, Harry."

Ron cast one more glance in Severus' direction; the Potions Master met his gaze with ferocity, but said nothing. Harry privately wished his friend would not challenge his Father so blatantly when he had to deal with him immediately after.

When Ron had gone, Severus unfolded his arms and stepped away from the wall, coming to where Harry stood.

"So, what's going on?" inquired Harry, familiar anxiety rising.

"I have noticed," started Severus; Harry braced himself. "That your marks have improved significantly as of late."

"Oh," said Harry, frowning in suspended disbelief. He waited for Severus to continue; he was not giving anything away until he knew where this was going.

"I thought, given the stress of the past several weeks and how far we have fallen behind in our personal pursuits, you might enjoy a day away from classes."

"I—what?" asked Harry, dumbfounded. This could not be the same Father who mere minutes ago had stared down his friend as though he was about to devour him whole.

"I have spoken to your other Professors," Severus continued easily, as though Harry was not standing there with his chin scuffing the stone floor beneath them, "and I've collected today's lessons for you; they should not be difficult."

"Okay…" replied Harry guardedly. "Why?"

"Did I not explain myself?" Severus inquired levelly. "We have rather a lot to accomplish this weekend; I would prefer to begin earlier rather than later."

Harry raised his eyebrows, exhaled audibly, and shook his head. "If you say so," he agreed in the same tone of disbelief; he made no attempt to mask his suspicion. "I'll gather my things."

Severus nodded. "I will wait here."

When Harry re-emerged from the common room several minutes later, Severus was standing in the exact position Harry had left him in, and Harry's expression remained unaltered.

"How do I know you're not an imposter, attempting to kidnap me?" asked Harry as he and his Father began to walk side by side.

Severus glanced sideways at his son, a one-sided smile forming at the corners of his lips. "Ask me anything."

"What did I give you for Christmas this year?"

"A location orb, spelled specifically to you," replied Severus at once, staring straight ahead.

Satisfied, Harry ceased his questioning and followed Severus through the castle.

It was not easy to withhold the barrage of questions assaulting Harry as he contemplated Severus' motives for taking him out of Hogwarts a day early. They seemed superficially benign, and yet so complex when he took into account all the factors at play. In fact, Harry realized, Severus' true motivations were probably so complex that his time would be better spent coming with a plan of diversion.

And that is exactly where Harry's thoughts drifted as he obediently followed his Father to their destination.

xxx

"Stow your things upstairs," ordered Severus as he and Harry entered the house and stored their travelling cloaks. "Then, see Tibby in the kitchen if you would like some breakfast. I will be waiting for you in the study when you have finished."

"Okay," said Harry, looking just as mistrusting as when Severus had pulled him away from Hogwarts not an hour earlier. Severus waited at the bottom of the stairs, watching his son ascend, and then went directly to the study.

As he organized the reading material that he intended Harry learn, Severus considered the way he should approach this coming weekend. It would be beneficial to finally have the boy away from the influence of his friends; Miss Granger's curiosity and Mr. Weasley's brashness both seemed to be affecting Harry's already increased penchant for investigating things that ought not to concern him. He was certain that had he not been proactive in removing Harry from Hogwarts this weekend, the temptation to start trouble would surely have won out over him.

At the same time as Severus valued having his son away from outside influences, he was also concerned over how a weekend on their own would play out. He was conscious of his own brusque nature, even more so after the events of the prior week. He hoped that by giving the boy a day off of classes, he might ease some of the tension that caused him to act out, at times.

Having spent the majority of his adult life under extreme pressure, Severus sometimes failed to recognize when Harry was becoming overwhelmed. It had taken more than one uncomfortable, and certainly unwelcome, conversation with the Headmaster to realize where Harry's behavior was stemming from.

There was wisdom in the Headmaster's advice, little as Severus liked to admit it. He begrudgingly realized that the old man had been closely watching Harry since he had come to Hogwarts. It was often more comfortable to treat Harry like a student than a son. It was never intentional; it was merely habit. It was his preferred method of dealing with children.

He thought that perhaps, with several days removed from Hogwarts, the two of them could interact in a different and more comfortable dynamic.

The frustrating part of this, however, was that it was very difficult to make Harry feel comfortable and safe when he was perpetually acting as though he had something to hide. Severus had to remind himself not to become overly occupied with this annoying fact; for now, whatever Harry was hiding from him did not appear to be an immediate problem. He hadn't pulled any daring stunts since their confrontation at the hospital wing weeks prior, and with Severus guarding him watchfully, he wouldn't have any opportunities, either. Severus had to content himself with that knowledge and focus on the task at hand.

The trouble would be getting the boy to let his guard down. If they were to begin strengthening his magic, he would need to place his faith in Severus. With regret, Severus realized now why Albus had been warning him to take a gentler approach for so long. He knew he had high expectations for the boy, but this had always been the case.

Severus was not normally a man who welcomed change. It seemed strange to him now to think that this deceivingly small, childlike adolescent would soon reach the age of majority and once again confront the wizard so terrifying that no one would speak his name. It was a foreign concept, to him, to be a mentor rather than a disciplinarian. He had little experience in this new arena. He hadn't realized what the job entailed.

A labored sigh escaped Severus as he sank into the worn leather chair behind his office desk. He leaned into his own hands as he massaged his temples, eyes drifting closed as he willed away the headache forming at the front of his cortex. He was weary of being in a constant state of peril. His relationship with Harry was volatile, to say the least. Every day, he felt as though he held the boy's life in the palm of his hand, depending on how he instructed him. He constantly felt as though he would soon be taken from him, forced to make a sacrifice he never should have been asked to make.

The pressure of it all set him on edge; he felt as though he would be able to enjoy nothing until he saw Harry through to the end. There was a small part of him that realized, however, that he was wasting the short time they might have until whatever end that might be.

When the Dark Lord had tired of sending his minions into Severus' presence, hoping to glean information from him, Severus knew he would act on his life. For now, he was difficult to reach; safe inside Hogwarts' walls, it was not worth the effort for Voldemort to come after him now. Once his spies indicated that they were no longer gaining use from him, however, he was certain his value would finally diminish completely. Then, he worried what the outcome would be. Though his parentage offered an advantage to Harry, it also presented a weakness.

Severus felt himself being watched, and his black eyes snapped to life. Leaning against the doorframe at the entrance of the study was Harry, watching him thoughtfully.

"You looked relaxed," Harry offered, pushing away from the wall and moving toward the desk. "I thought perhaps you didn't wish to be disturbed."

"I would not use the term relaxed so much as focused," said Severus gently. "We have rather a lot to get to, this weekend."

The apprehension that Severus was becoming accustomed to seeing in Harry flashed across the boy's face, but upon noticing the stack of books in front of him, he looked oddly relieved. Severus could see that he was still nervous about some unnamed subject, but reminded himself not to press for information. There were far more important matters at stake.

"Have a seat," commanded Severus gently, for Harry still stood in front of the desk. "I would like to explain some things to you before we get started."

Harry looked unsure of how to respond, and so he simply sat and waited for Severus to instruct him further.

"I have mentioned to you that I wished you to delve deeper into the strength of White Magic, Harry. I regret that we have not started sooner; I am afraid we became rather preoccupied with other matters over this year. Now, however, we will begin. Harry, what do you know of this subject?"

"Well," said Harry, looking unsure of how to answer, "I know that it is the opposite of dark magic."

"It is not quite as simple as that," Severus corrected him at once. "It is not an art of creating spells and curses that cannot be defeated by normal means; its strength depends very much on the strength within the witch or wizard who practices it. It is a means of calling on the power at your very core to perform feats far greater than those simple wand-waving can produce. It is not for the average wizard."

"How do you know that I will be able to produce it, if it takes such power?"

"That seems a rather foolish question," said Severus gently, humored by Harry's uncharacteristic humility. "You already have the inclination, Harry. It is the reason you survived the Dark Lord's original attack."

"White Magic?"

"Yes, your Mother's," responded Severus softly, breaking eye contact. "And your connection to her."

Longing briefly graced Severus' face before the wince was replaced with a blank stare. He looked back up at Harry, and as though he had never paused in the first place, he continued.

"At the end of her life, your Mother was deeply entrenched in the study of White Magic in the Department of Mysteries. She meditated frequently, did exercises to improve her strength, and eventually, could create works of magic almost unheard of. Her findings are published in tomes, secured deep within the Ministry itself. She was a great witch, Harry, as I am sure you have been told many times.

"It was this power that attracted the Dark Lord to your Mother in the first place. I sometimes believe that he lured me to his side only so that she might follow. When he heard the prophecy, however, his attraction to her magic became an immediate threat.

"At the point in my life when Lily was lost to us forever, I had already lost her long before. It did not lessen the pain of the blow, however; and in my grief, I did not realize the true reason the Dark Lord had sought after her. I was ignorant of her true power and in denial about your importance to us. I assumed that you had been saved solely by her power; I did not see that it was the strength of her love for you that created something even more powerful than magic produced by wand alone.

"Years later, when Dumbledore began to unravel the mystery of how you had survived, I took it upon myself to research what she had learned in her time spent at the Department of Mysteries. Her own findings, coupled with the notes of those who studied with her, are all here." Severus laid a hand on the stack of thick books and loose parchments piled atop his desk.

"All that remains stowed away in the Department of Mysteries, I have secured duplicates of over the years through various connections. I think you will find these as useful as I have, if not more so. In addition to the instruction I can offer you, you can be taught by your Mother as well."

When at last Severus fell silent, he was taken aback by the mixture of emotions contorting Harry's face. He looked as though he were unsure whether to smile or to frown, as though he was replaying everything Severus had said and was struggling to make sense of it. He reached an unsteady hand toward the stack of tomes, and looked to Severus for approval. "May I?"

"Certainly," said Severus, placing the first of the books into Harry's hands. "You have as much right to these as I do."

"Why not show me these earlier?" asked Harry as he turned the pages gingerly, as though terrified his soft touch might be the undoing of books which had survived the last several decades.

"I regret to admit that I thought you were not yet ready," said Severus honestly.

"What changed?" Harry still hadn't taken his eyes of the notes in front of him.

"My definition of 'ready' changed."

At this, Harry paused in the middle of flipping a page, his eyes meeting Severus'.

"I realize," intoned Severus, "that we may never be fully prepared for what's to come. With the potion mere months from completion, it is not practical for me to expect you to reach late adulthood before I allow you to learn anything new."

"That's all I wanted you to understand, before," said Harry, wondering where this calm, rational Severus had been three weeks ago.

"Allow me to be perfectly clear," responded Severus, pointing a long finger in Harry's direction as the usual sternness returned to his voice. "You did a poor job of communicating with me, before. I admit I am not without fault, but you must also realize that I can only react to the behavior you display. I am trusting you, Harry, to keep your word to me. I am attempting to stay true to mine."

"Okay," Harry agreed, nodding solemnly. He glanced back down at his lap; a monochromatic, stationary picture of his Mother wrapped in a simple, white, Roman style robe stared serenely back up at him. As he gazed back down on it, he realized how much it would have meant to her if she could see Severus and him coming together over her work, now.

"Take the day," said Severus, rising from his seat. "Take the day to learn what you can from the books here, and tomorrow, we will put it into practice."

Harry nodded, and Severus excused himself quietly from the study, leaving Harry there in peace. It was the first time Harry could ever remember having been so ecstatic to embark on what Hermione might have referred to as a 'bit of light reading'.

xxx

When the sun had buried its face behind the tree line, leaving only a reminiscent red glow in the darkening sky, Harry's conspicuous absence finally spurred Severus to action. It had been hours since he'd seen hide or tail of the boy; he had left him to his own devices for a majority of the day while he worked on his own in the lab.

Oddly, the day had been therapeutic for Severus. It had been quite some time since he'd been able to spend hours on end concentrating on a single task; not a single thought about whether his son was getting into trouble had crossed his mind. Dumbledore had not interrupted him once. None of the other Heads of House had come to him with complaints about how he was treating their students. Malfoy and Kinnaird were far, far away, unable to bid for his attention as they normally did.

And now, as he drew close to the study where he had left his son hours before, the faint glow of candlelight streaming through the open doorway told Severus that Harry was still concentrating on the task to which he'd been set. He was unsure whether or not to be surprised; he had known Harry would appreciate the opportunity to learn more about his Mother. He had simply worried that the sheer volume of the research would be too much to hold his attention. Harry, he had learned, was more of a hands-on learner.

Severus rapped his knuckles lightly on the door frame as he entered the study. From his place at the desk, Harry looked up at his Father. Severus was surprised when he smiled sadly.

"Do you find these helpful?" inquired Severus as he approached the desk and took a seat in front of it.

Harry nodded. "They are… but they are not what I expected."

"How so?"

"I assumed they would be like textbooks. They are closer to diaries."

"They are," Severus agreed, searching his expression. "I have not read them all. The first several were difficult to digest."

"She speaks of you often," Harry observed quietly. "Why would she give these to the Ministry?"

Severus took a long, steady breath and leaned back in his chair. "White Magic is an ancient branch of magic, Harry. There is not much that is understood about it because it predates the streamlining of magic as we know and understand it today. Now, we use wands and spells to harness magical power and accomplish specific tasks. Magic originally manifested itself as a way to draw energy from the surrounding environment; it mimics the accidental magic performed by magical youth.

"Your Mother proposed that by harnessing this power through the individual, rather than through the wand, one could become extremely powerful when the two combined. She used herself as the test subject for this hypothesis. Working for the Department of Mysteries at the time, she catalogued her experiences so that her progress could be better understood. It was by learning to channel her emotions that she learned how to concentrate the energy that normally flows unchecked through every Witch or Wizard. She wrote of the ways she focused her mind during meditation; it would appear she focused on me quite often."

"It appears as if these are written over years," said Harry. "But, we don't have years."

"Yes," Severus breathed, tension dominating his expression. "I hope that by allowing you to view your Mother's work as a precursor to my instruction, you will learn quickly. I believe you have the inclination; your emotions dominate your magic even now. I am certain that if you can learn to channel them as Lily did, you will fare well."

"I hope so."

Harry looked exhausted, Severus observed. The skin around his eyes seemed permanently tinged with purple, and his hair and wardrobe were a disheveled mess.

"Harry," he said gently, leaning forward and catching the boy's gaze in his own. "We have wasted too much time at odds with each other. We may have little time left. There is so much to accomplish."

Harry nodded in agreement, but said nothing. He appeared unable to fully meet Severus' eyes.

"Let us focus now on righting those wrongs," Severus suggested. "I will not rest until I see you reach your full potential. I realize I am often overbearing; I am hard on you only because I wish for you to succeed."

"We definitely have a long history of antagonizing each other," Harry agreed. "It's hard not to react to you the way I am used to."

Severus chuckled under his breath. "Likewise, it has not been easy for me to control my temper when confronted with your antics. You seem to have made a career out of defying me. Perhaps it is the lack of mutual respect from which the problem stems."

"I respect you—"

"The lack of _display, _then," Severus amended with a dubious lifting of the eyebrow.

"Fine," Harry agreed, crossing his arms. "So what can we do about it?"

"We must agree to focus on what is important. It is inevitable that we quarrel, Harry, as long as we are concentrating on who is right. Albus insists that we must learn to 'agree to disagree', whatever tripe that is."

"So…" Harry replied in inquiry.

"As little as I care for the Headmaster's unsolicited advice, I am forced to admit that he understands you in a way I cannot begin to comprehend. I will endeavor," he stated grudgingly, resentment edging its way into his formerly mellow expression, "to place more confidence in your actions and temper my own reactions to you."

Harry almost smiled at this, until Severus added harshly, "_If_, that is, you agree to do the same. I will not brook your disrespect."

"I suppose that's reasonable," agreed Harry. He paused, a pained expression crossing his face. Frowning, he added, "I am sorry, I know I test your patience—"

Severus waved his hand irritably, cutting him off. "Let us not waste time on apologies," he commanded at once. "Let us instead remember not to repeat our past mistakes."

"Right," said Harry, looking down at his hands. "Okay."

Harry appeared to withdraw into himself for several minutes; Severus sat across from him, observing the odd display of emotion, and frowned. He imagined that his son was feeling a bit uncomfortable, uncertain how to respond.

"Get to bed, Harry," Severus instructed in a firm but kind voice. "You clearly need your rest. You'll be of no use tomorrow if you are overcome by stress."

Harry nodded, appearing relieved, and stood to straighten the desk he'd been working on. Severus rose as well, preparing to leave the study.

"Practice Occlumency before you sleep, tonight," he suggested as he moved towards the door. "You'll need a clear mind, in the morning. Goodnight, Harry," he bid gently.

"Goodnight, Dad," Harry replied quietly behind him.

Severus' small smile was almost imperceptible as he turned and left the room.

xxx

As Harry and Severus came to a halt in front of the door to the one room Harry had never before ventured into, he couldn't keep a certain sense of apprehension from creeping into his mind. There was something strange about entering a room so saturated with his Mother's memory.

Harry glanced up at his Father anxiously, and saw that the man was intently watching his face while his immobile hand rested on the door handle. There was a question in his eyes; Harry nodded, and Severus opened the door.

Severus gestured wordlessly for Harry to step inside, and he did as he was told. Severus followed, closing the door behind them.

"Sit," Severus commanded simply, and Harry obliged. There was no furniture in the room upon which he could sit, and so he moved to the center and sank to the floor. He folded one leg under the other, and Severus joined him there. "Set your wand to the side."

Harry did as he was asked; he felt suddenly empty, as though the symbolism of abandoning his wand had literally weakened him.

The room was, as he had expected, primarily white. The walls were lined with mirrors; he could see himself from all angles. A circle of unlit candles surrounded him and his Father; they were perfectly aligned with the center of the room. Above, dozens of crystals were suspended in the air, hovering eerily above them. The windows of the room were green and blue stained glass, and the ocean accented hues were reflected off of the many colorless surfaces.

It was quiet. The only sound was the clinking of crystal against crystal as they swayed above them. They reminded him of muggle wind chimes.

Along the edges of the room were glass tables upon which sat translucent, smoky orbs. They looked distinctly like the crystal balls he had seen in Trelawney's classroom before, but white clouds swirled within them as though they housed their own atmospheres.

"Harry."

The deep voice brought Harry to attention, and he diverted his gaze from his surroundings and stared at the man in front of him.

Like Harry, Snape sat cross legged in the middle of the floor. His expression was one of extreme concentration; his face looked hard, as though he were forcing away whatever emotion this room inspired in him.

"The first thing we will concentrate on is the centering of your mind," said Severus in a low, quiet voice; it was though he could not raise it above a few decibels, for fear of shattering the seemingly delicate room. "It is similar to Occlumency, and yet different in the fact that rather than suppressing your emotions, I would like you to concentrate on them.

"Close your eyes."

Harry did as he was asked, and was surprised at the emotion that overcame him as he did so. It seemed that the energy of the room was a strong mixture of tranquility and passion; he felt completely safe here, as though no danger could come from this place. Simultaneously, he was moved by the power of the room, unsure whether to cry tears of sorrow or joy. A shiver shook his frame, his shoulders shuddering with the movement.

Warm hands grasped Harry's; at first, he stiffened.

"Relax."

Willing his anxiety away, Harry attempted to calm himself. His efforts had no immediate effect.

"Breathe," Severus' low voice instructed quietly. "Inhale slowly."

Harry did as he was told; steadily, he drew air into his lungs, his chest expanding. He squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Now, exhale. Again, slowly."

Harry emitted a long, heavy sigh. As he did, he hung his head, his chin pressing closer to his chest.

"Clear your mind, as you have done in our Occlumency lessons. Picture yourself in the center of a room totally devoid of distraction; it is bright, pure, and safe."

Harry took several more deep breaths, and then pictured himself standing in the middle of a totally blank space. It seemed that the brightness of the room around him leaked through his eyelids; a blinding light blurred his vision, erasing the complex thoughts that usually lurked in the back of his mind.

Harry took in a sharp breath of cool air; he willed himself to think less and envision more.

Around him, he erected walls of glass; he shut every distraction out, placing it on the outside of the walls. As he had when he had finally mastered Occlumency, he envisioned placing all of his anxiety into a small, secure box, setting it aside to be dealt with later.

"Now," intoned Severus', as though he could feel Harry's mind finally coming up blank. "I want you to concentrate on the primary emotion you were feeling before you entered this room."

Harry frowned unconsciously, and he opened his mouth to object—wasn't he supposed to dispel the emotions that were keeping him from concentrating?

"Do not speak," Severus instructed firmly. "Think."

Harry struggled to suppress the frustration that surged as Severus instructed him to do something that seemed not only impossible, but also ill-advised. As he had been asked, however, he concentrated on the anxiety he had felt before entering the room. As if they had just hatched, butterflies began to flutter in his abdomen.

"Good," said Severus.

"I thought I was supposed to have a clear mind," Harry growled quietly, taking his cue from Severus and keeping his voice low. His eyes remained closed, though he longed to open them.

"You will not always have a clear mind when you need to perform, Harry," Severus reminded him. "You must learn to use whatever feeling you have to empower yourself. You must be able to clear your mind at an instant, saving your energy, and then unleashing it when the moment is right."

Though he felt it was impossible to perform any magic in such a state, Harry allowed anxiety to overcome him. He thought of his Mother, who had passed so long ago. He admitted to himself the nervousness his Father evoked from him in an instructional setting. He thought about the reason he was sitting in the middle of this room, trying to fortify himself against Voldemort's advances.

Before he had realized what was happening, dread overcame him. It was as though his mind was so clean a slate that it instantly absorbed the enormity of whatever emotion occurred in him. He at once felt as though he needed to escape an unknown enemy; he wanted to shake his hands from Severus' grip, spring to his feet, and flee the room. Breathing was suddenly difficult; he gasped for air, pulling away from Severus.

The older man held his hands firmly, tugging him back towards him.

"Your fear is a powerful motivator, Harry," he said gently, without trying to alleviate the boy's symptoms. Harry's breathing became shallow and short; he felt as though he was running out of oxygen. The strength of his emotion was overwhelming. His face contorted as though he was enduring extreme pain; yet, physically, he felt nothing.

It was all in his mind. The thought stalled the advancing sensations of fear, and yet did not cure them.

"Breathe," Severus reminded him once again, his voice perfectly tranquil.

"I—can't," Harry gasped, finally wresting his hands from Severus' grasp.

Severus' hands gripped Harry's knees tightly, his fingertips digging into him, and Harry winced. He leaned back, attempting to free himself, but it was as though there was a solid barrier between him and reality; he was so deep into the world he himself had constructed, he could not escape.

It was only his Father's strong voice and grip that kept him anchored in reality, reminding him that he was not beyond aid. "Do not give up," his voice said firmly. "Focus. What will make you feel better?"

Harry didn't know how to answer the question; he shook his head.

"Focus your anxiety, Harry. Picture a glass ball, similar to those that line the walls of this room. It contains the cure to your terror."

This seemed incomprehensible. The orbs in the room… what did they contain?

"Shatter it."

Harry reached for his wand, but Severus' long fingers wrapped around his wrist before he grasped it.

"Shatter your anxiety," Severus instructed again.

"How?" asked Harry frantically, on the verge of hyperventilation, now.

"Picture the reason for your fear, Harry. Inhale. Envision it. What is the source?"

"Voldemort."

"No—the source of the fear you are experiencing now, Harry. The emotion you have felt since entering the room; where did it originate? You needn't answer aloud. Visualize it."

Just as Harry had before stored his overwhelming feelings into a mental prison, he now thought back to them. He did not fully understand his anxiety; he only knew it was there. It had something to do with his Father, with his Mother, with the frightening thought of failure at something so important.

"Exhale," Severus reminded him.

Harry forced the stale air from his lungs. Shatter it. That is what Severus had told him.

His free hand reached out in front of him; it was beyond him now to grasp the impracticality of reaching for something unseen. With his hand extended, he felt as though power thrummed through him. His arm quaked with the sensation of it.

"Name your fears, Harry, in your head. Repeat them to yourself."

Concentration etched lines into his youthful skin, and his limbs began to tremble.

_Voldemort. _

_Failure. _

_Dumbledore_

_Mistrust. _

_Severus. Lily. _

_Uncertainty. _

_Ron, Hermione. _

_Duty. _

"Shatter it," ordered Severus, seemingly in the distance.

Harry's whole body convulsed, as though he were moving to physically destroy something; across the room, he heard something shatter. A soft rain of shards pelted against him; he flinched, but Severus held him steady. He felt no pain.

"Again."

The list of words ran through Harry's mind as he pictured another glass orb exploding. As before, he heard the explosion and felt the impact.

"Again."

It was not until they had repeated the cycle several times that Harry finally felt his panic ebbing away. It was strangely satisfying, destroying the environment around him. When Severus seemed confident that he had exhausted the source of his intensity, he reached gently forward and guided Harry's arm back to a resting position at his side.

"Open your eyes," he said gently.

Harry's formerly rigid shoulders relaxed, and he opened his eyes slowly. Instantly, a look of surprise registered on his face. His eyes darted around the room, and then focused questioningly on Severus.

None of the orbs were broken. They were not surrounded in a pile of broken glass. But Harry had heard the explosions; he had felt the physical evidence of the power he'd wielded on them.

"What—"

"This is a safe environment for you to practice in, Harry," Severus explained. "At your level, you could not destroy this room unless you physically did so. This is a place for you to focus your mind and learn to control your magic in a whole different way."

"Then, how do I know I've accomplished anything?"

"How do you feel, Harry?"

"Like I've gone mad."

Severus' expression effectively scolded him. "Don't be flippant. Look around. Do you see anything different?"

Harry frowned and scanned the room. It seemed the same as when they had entered. The crystals hanging above them swayed with a little more force, creating a soft musical backdrop that hadn't previously existed. The candles around them were in the same place. Looking up, Harry observed the orbs that he'd thought he was shattering. Most of them were still cloudy spheres of white…but a few, he noticed, glowed pastel orange. He could almost see the color receding as he watched them. He looked back to Severus.

"They act as shock absorbers, Harry. If you were to touch one in its active state, it might feel like a hot coal. The more strength you pour into them, the longer it will take for them to return to their original state. They are a great measure of the power you produce."

Harry sighed, and tried to verbalize his feelings. It was difficult to find the words. "I suppose I feel…relaxed…bordering on drained."

"You should," Severus said with some satisfaction. "You have done very well, for your first time."

Severus stood, and offered a hand to Harry. Harry accepted and Severus pulled him to his feet. As they left, Harry cast one more look around the room. It seemed alight with magic, even more than it had originally. The energy of the room was now utterly transformed, as though it now held the anxiety Harry had been burdened by upon entering.

Severus closed the door behind him, and Harry felt as though something heavy had literally been lifted from his troubled mind. He looked to Severus and smiled softly. Though the older man didn't return the smile, it seemed to Harry that approval lit his dark eyes. Otherwise, however, his face displayed no emotion.

Harry looked to Severus, whose behavior seemed rather peculiar. It seemed that all the anxiety Harry had expelled during their session of White Magic had been transferred to his Father; his expression was so closed, Harry was certain he was reining the intensity of his emotions. With that thought, he asked, "Is it possible… is it alright, for you to be in the room with me, when I am practicing?"

Severus nodded solemnly as he turned away from the door and began walking. "Inside the circle of candles, we are both quite sheltered from any magical upheavals."

Harry followed Severus down the hall to the stairway, where Severus turned to him.

"This afternoon has been…taxing…on both of us, I am certain," he observed stiffly. "Perhaps you should take a walk to clear your mind."

Harry was brimming with questions about everything he had just experienced; despite reading some of his Mother's writings, there was still so much he did not understand. Severus, however, did not look open to answering any questions. He watched Harry expectantly, waiting for him to descend down the stairs. He did not appear to have any intention of following him.

"Alright," Harry agreed reluctantly. "Maybe I will."

Severus nodded, and as Harry turned to move down the stairs, he had the feeling that Severus was relieved to be left alone. When he looked back over his shoulder, his Father was already gone.

Intent on answering his own questions, Harry set off for the study. He wouldn't rest until he understood exactly what magic he had performed in that room. It was wholly new, to him, and he wanted to devour all of the information available on the subject.

xxx

Severus' movements were rigid and meticulous as he poured the contents of one flask into another. He wrapped deft fingers around the narrow top and swirled the contents in smooth motion, watching intently as the colors coalesced.

There was a calming aspect to potion-making for Severus. The methodic movements, the mental power, the intense concentration it took to complete each menial step of the process, all served well to fully absorb an overactive mind.

And Severus' mind certainly qualified as overactive.

At the thought of the unnamed emotion he repressed so efficiently, his shoulders tensed. He finished his set of clockwise strokes in the small cauldron before him, and stood back to observe the liquid congealing.

As he expected, his solution thickened to the intended consistency. Staring down at his perfect work, he slowly peeled his thick black work gloves from his starkly contrasted hands. He set them aside in their designated area, and manually cleared his work area. He was reluctant to rely on magic in an extremely delicate environment in his extremely delicate mood.

Though the hour he had spent in the solace of his laboratory had certainly muted his volatile mood, he still suffered from the stress of the afternoon. He had spent a lifetime repressing his memories of Lily; to deliberately relive them was wholly unnatural to him.

He remembered now why he had deliberately destroyed her room not long after she had left him. It was as though her memory lingered there; she had poured so much of herself into her magic that it seemed the room was infused with her. In the presence of that power, he was raw, unable to keep the memories at bay.

Yet, Severus reminded himself as he closed and locked the door, he understood the magnitude of the undertaking ahead of him. He had realized it for quite some time, ever since he had learned that Harry's training would become his responsibility.

He knew he would now have to learn to live with her memory, rather than ignoring it. At the very least, Harry would have questions Severus must answer. As unpleasant as it was to think about his loss, it didn't give him license to saddle Harry with the burden of forgetting her as well.

Unconsciously, Severus slowed as he reached the ground level of the house. He descended the last few stairs gracefully, and halted at the bottom. A practiced master of Occlumency, he took a moment to clear his mind. He forced a long, slow breath from between his lips, and his hands moved unconsciously up to the back of his stiff neck. He twisted his head to the side, pushing against his chin and closing his eyes. Consecutive popping noises signaled the temporary relief from the tension there. He sighed and opened his eyes again, allowing his arms to fall back to his side.

Severus' features formed an expression of neutrality as he resumed his walk towards the study. He assumed he would find his son there, if the boy was in the house at all. When he arrived there, he was met with a fully lit room and a desk strewn with papers and books. He was not, however, met by the sight of his son.

"Harry?" Severus inquired of the room, and finding no response, moved over to the expanse of windows along the back wall. He parted the drapes there, allowing a little natural light into the room, and gazed out over the grounds. He could not see Harry anywhere, but he was certain that was where the boy had gone.

Severus closed the curtains; he did not like the study to be too brightly lit. He tidied the desk that his son had left in disarray and selected one of the more neutral texts on White Magic for his own perusal. He intended to brush up on some of the more complex principles before he attempted to teach them to Harry.

With his book in hand, Severus banished the lights in the study and abandoned the room in favor of the front parlor. He hoped that there, he would hear Harry's return. Though he himself had suggested the walk, it made him uneasy to have the boy too long removed from his sight. It seemed that Harry's absences often accompanied catastrophe.

Severus reached the front of the house quickly, and after checking the kitchen for further signs of his son, moved across the hallway to his final destination. When he entered the room, the first thing he noticed, to his chagrin, was the disordered state Harry had left this room in, as well. He had left his knights chess board out on the low table, a game against himself half played, and a plate of partially eaten food sat next to it.

The second thing Severus noticed, as his eyes scanned the room quickly, was Tibby standing several steps away from the mess, hands tucked behind her back and big glassy eyes staring up at him guiltily.

"It's quite alright," he assured the house elf in dry tones, glancing from her to the mess. "Leave it for Harry to clean up; he ought to anyway."

"Yes, Master Snape," Tibby obliged quickly, giving him a timid curtsey and hurrying past him. As she did, he noticed her stuffing a crème colored envelope into her small dress.

"Ah, Tibby," Severus called, and she halted in her tracks, turning around and staring at him with the same wide, watery eyes. "Is that the post you have there?"

"Yes, Master Snape," she said obediently. "I has left Master's post on Master's desk, sir."

She turned again to leave quickly, but Severus called, "Come back here," his tone showing his surprise at her unwillingness to share any more information. "What is that you have, there?"

Timidly, as though expecting an outburst, she answered, "Master Harry's post, sir."

An eyebrow lifted in suspicion, and Severus extended his hand to the elf, motioning for her to hand it over. To his further dismay, she pulled the letter from her dress and clutched it to her small chest, taking a step backwards. When she spoke, it was as though she was forcing herself to say the words against her own will. "Tibby is only to give this letter to Master Harry, sir," she said insistently, yet fearfully. "Tibby was given instructions not to give the letter to you, sir!"

"According to whom?" asked Severus, eyes narrowed.

"Tibby cannot say, sir!" she whined, near tears now.

"I command you to tell me from whom you have received correspondence for my son!" Severus said harshly; Tibby cowered beneath him, clutching the letter in her desperately wringing hands.

"But, Master—"

"I suppose you would rather I present you with clothes?" Severus inquired in a cold, deadly tone. Alarmed, Tibby stared back up at him.

"Tibby does not wish to be sent from the Snape house, sir—"

"Then I suggest you obey me, and hand that letter here, Tibby," replied Severus coolly.

With a fretful whimper, Tibby hung her head and held the letter up to him, defeated.

"Now," said Severus impatiently, snatching the letter from her grasp. "Who sent this to him? How did it get here?"

"Dobby, the house elf, sir," responded Tibby, looking pained as she admitted it. It was as though the threat of clothes had placed her under a temporary spell.

"Ah, so it is from Hogwarts, then," said Severus quietly, turning the unmarked letter over in his hands. He glared at it, and then back at Tibby, who looked as though she would start sobbing at her forced betrayal. "And who gave the letter to Dobby, I wonder?"

"Miss Hermione," said Tibby in a near whisper, as though she were confessing to a crime.

Severus looked up sharply at the house elf, who flinched at the movement. He was certainly taken aback by her response; he had expected the letter had a more sinister nature, from the way that she was acting. It suddenly seemed foolish that he would suspect such a thing. Tibby was clearly acting out of loyalty to the kind-hearted Granger girl.

"Very well," he said to the fretful elf, feeling the slightest twinge of regret at having spoken to her so harshly. He did not press her for any more information. "You are excused."

Tibby quietly escaped the room, and Severus sank to the couch, staring down at the envelope in his hands. It was already popping open at the seams, having been wrung within an inch of its life in Tibby's desperate hands. If his thumb just slipped, he might accidentally open it.

It seemed Miss Granger thought herself quite clever, Severus mused as he contemplated the ethics of opening a letter that was intended for his son. She had overestimated the ability of a bound house elf to refuse a command. It was very like her, he thought with a roll of his eyes. When he considered the lengths she had gone to in order to keep the missive out of his hands, it reinforced his desire to read the message it contained.

He had never claimed to be noble, he thought as he wedged his finger between the flap of the envelope and the letter inside. He had known for several days that his son was conspiring to do something with that girl, and if he could prevent him from doing something exceedingly stupid ahead of time, who was he to pass up such an opportunity?

Before he could persuade himself to do otherwise, the envelope was open and the letter had been torn from its clutches. Severus dropped the envelope to the floor absently as his eyes began to scan the paper.

It was blank.

His eyes narrowed. He knew very well that this was not _truly _a blank piece of parchment. Miss Granger was simply a bit more clever than he gave her credit for.

Unfortunately, thought Snape, it also seemed that Miss Granger had underestimated _him. _After all, Severus was no novice to the art of decoding student enchantments, especially when it came to anything involving homework, or the occasional passed note.

"_Finite Incantatum_." Severus waved his wand across the parchment, but nothing appeared there.

Ah, so she was going to be difficult.

Within what seemed like mere minutes, Severus was at his desk in the study. He unlocked the bottom drawer and rummaged around, surfacing with several tools at his disposal. He spread the letter flat across the surface of his desk, and first checked for invisible ink.

"_Aparecium_."

Nothing appeared. Yet, Severus had almost expected this. Miss Granger would expect him to know such an incantation. She might not, however, expect him to possess a Revealer. He snatched the small red block off his desk and rubbed it furiously across the letter.

A faint line of scrawl appeared across the top of the parchment.

_If you are not a thief, manage this mischief. _

Severus' brows converged, forming a deep crease down the center of his forehead. As the obvious nature of the clue dawned on him, he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Oh, Miss Granger, ever so sly," he muttered dryly, before saying in way of command, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

It was very fortunate, thought Severus as Hermione's tidy scrawl appeared across the parchment, that he had taken hold of Harry's map several weeks ago. Otherwise, he might not have guessed the clue so quickly.

_Harry, _the letter began.

_I planned to speak to you yesterday before you left for the weekend, but it seems Professor Snape is determined to keep us apart. Ron told me how he surprised you outside our common room; I suppose we should have suspected as much, after the way he acted in Potions on Thursday. _

_I cannot say much in this letter, though I have safe-guarded it in the best ways I know how. If at all possible, try to convince Professor Snape to return a day early. It still seems the ferret is up to something; last night, he left again, but this time escorted by K. It was strange. If you insist on keeping it a secret, you should at least give your Father a chance to catch him. _

_For your part, be on your guard and try not to think about us. We don't need you getting into any more trouble, and we don't need the Professor getting more suspicious. Please, Harry, don't do anything rash. _

_We'll see you soon, _

_H&R_

By the time he had finished reading, what had begun as a crease between his eyebrows had gained the depth of a gorge. His dark eyes scanned the letter one more time, reaffirming that he had read correctly.

He had _known_, simply _known_, that Harry was keeping something from him. Yet the vague irritation he'd felt at the hint of secrecy was nowhere comparable to the molten anger he was experiencing now.

Even as the more rational part of his brain argued against it, Severus was compelled to immediate action. He could envision nothing sweeter than the satisfaction of descending on his son in the garden like a panther upon its prey. Unconsciously, he clenched and unclenched his fist as he imagined the feel of snatching Harry up by the scruff of his neck and dragging him back to the house, where he would be commanded to remain for all of eternity.

_Drastic_.

The one word in the back of his mind spoke through the haze of his rage in a voice unlike his own. It could have belonged to any number of people: Dumbledore, Lupin, Harry himself…even Lily, had she been there.

Subdued by the thought, Severus' glare darkened even further as he realized that he could not react as he wished. He had agreed, however foolishly, to behave more graciously towards his errant son. For now, he would stifle the compulsion to act.

He scowled as he threw everything on his desk haphazardly back into his drawer, with no consideration to his normally thorough organization. When he had finished, he leaned back into his chair for a moment and gazed absently around the study. His mind was stretching in all different directions, but his thoughts continued to circle back to one resolution: despite his personal vow of restraint, he needed to speak with his son.

xxx

The faint line between physical and mental exhaustion was one Harry had been treading for weeks now; as he found himself standing at the beginning of the path back to the house, he realized that he now had a foot planted on each side. The long walk over the newly thawed grounds of Severus' property had been an exhausting end to an already strenuous day. His morning spent with Severus had been simultaneously invigorating and draining.

He had left his first session of White Magic feeling empowered. The energy of that room seemed to flow through him freely now; he could feel strength at his fingertips as he gripped his wand, and knew that it was not imagined. He was alive with the magic he had always possessed, and his mind was awakened to a whole new world he couldn't wait to discover.

This feeling of vitality opened new horizons to Harry, yet it also presented a new obstacle. He could barely decide which topic of inquiry to first pursue, much less could he concentrate on it once he arrived at an answer. Each question answered only gave him cause to think of several more.

Severus' suggestion had become a necessity more quickly than Harry would have liked. He recognized the advice had not only been directed at him; Severus' needs apparently paralleled his own. While his Father had gone to work in the attic, Harry had turned to the outdoors.

The arrival of spring seemed to bring with it an incredible sense of clarity. Thought was not required to appreciate the rapidly greening garden, the sweet smell of the damp grounds around him, nor the warmth of golden rays slicing through the moist chill of the air. Though it was overgrown and only partially awakened from the slumber of the winter months, there was a tangible sense of peace about the sprawling grounds around him.

In the presence of the garden's soothing nature, Harry's mind could wander freely without landing on another distraction. He was surprised as he circled back to the front of the house, now, that his thoughts were rather on his Father than the questions he had about White Magic.

There was something changed in Severus' demeanor which Harry could not quite place. He was the same Professor Snape as always, yet he appeared as a domesticated version of himself. He maintained the bearing of the stern Potions Master, but his manner of approach had softened.

Harry couldn't quite understand it, but he was grateful for the change all the same. Though he was tired, he felt at ease in a way that had lately become unfamiliar.

Harry reached the top of the path and entered the house without pretense. In the entryway, he paused briefly to store his cloak before entering the hallway. As he passed the doorway to the front parlor, it was only the peripheral glimpse of a dark object in the lit room that halted him in his tracks. Uncertain if he had seen correctly, he took several steps backward and leaned through the doorframe.

The winged armchair that normally decorated the nook next to the fireplace now sat in front of it, angled toward the door. Severus was seated there with a book and several sheets of parchment in his lap, though he did not seem to be paying attention to them so much as the spectacle of the glow emanating from the hearth.

Indeed, he looked every bit the menacing Professor to which Harry had grown accustomed. His hands rested on the ends of the chairs and he stared straight forward; he had not moved since Harry had entered the room.

"Hello," offered Harry tentatively, thinking it odd that his Father had not yet acknowledged him. The man's gaze shifted to him slowly, giving away no sign of surprise at Harry's presence. He did not immediately respond.

The sudden shift of tone between the two of them jarred Harry in a way he did not care to analyze. The unsettled feeling pressed at his consciousness as he observed his Father's mannerisms. They were slow and deliberate, and certainly mirrored his thoughts. He was aware that in the time that had elapsed between their encounters, Severus' mood had taken a sudden and alarmingly direct turn.

Even as Harry stood before Severus in total bewilderment, the man sat with an expression that could have been chiseled out of stone. The effect of the shadows flickering across his face in the firelight made his already pronounced features appear even harsher; Harry fought the desire to shrink back from the intensity of his stare.

"Harry," he said, inclining his head. "Why don't you have a seat? I believe there is a conversation that is long overdue."

"Alright," said Harry helplessly, sinking to the couch adjacent to the chair. At last, Severus moved, but only to face his chair toward him. Unconsciously, Harry winced as Severus' glare came to rest on him once again.

Where was the man from this morning? He recalled the stiffness with which Severus had walked away from their last encounter, and hoped that he could attribute his Father's behavior to some residual emotion from that moment. Yet, the sinking feeling in his gut would not allow him to believe something as easy as that.

"Firstly, Harry," began Severus smoothly, "I would like to know if there is any subject _you _feel is worth discussing."

At once, Harry pressed his lips together as if to physically restrain himself from responding hastily; uncertain of where Severus was leading, he was unwilling to give himself away. Severus sat before him with the imposing presence of a judge; Harry could see him evaluating every one of his actions as though each fidget or sideways glance was indicative of his guilt.

"I did actually plan to speak to you, today," Harry said slowly, searching Severus' expression for a hint of the thoughts lurking there. It wasn't a lie; he had contemplated the strange state of affairs between him and his Father for a majority of his time spent outside.

"By all means, then," said Severus in a low voice, waving his hand as though opening the floor to Harry. "Speak."

"I'm not sure how to begin…"

Annoyance laced his tone as Severus responded, "I am certain you can come up with something."

"Right," said Harry. He cleared his throat, and glanced around to spare himself some time. It occurred to him that the room had the atmosphere of an interrogation chamber. Severus sat staring at him intently, with only the glow of the fireplace illuminating his shadowy form in the dimly lit room. "Perhaps we should change rooms," Harry suggested.

"This will do," Severus said curtly.

Harry frowned. At the conclusion of his walk, he had come to terms with the fact that a serious conversation between the two of them was inevitable. However, he had felt far more confident in his ability to interact with the man as an adult, then. His Father's behavior now could only be described as ominous. It may not have been a far stretch from his usual behavior, but it certainly made honesty and open communication between them more difficult.

"I feel as though you are angry with me, though I can't figure why," said Harry carefully after a moment. The words left his mouth and he was instantly surprised with his own bravery at directly confronting the issue. Severus wore a similar expression. "It's hard for me to talk to you, this way."

It was more direct than Harry normally dared to be with Severus, and yet it seemed to have the desired effect. As he considered Harry's observation, Severus' hard expression relented into one of admission. He inclined his head to the side, and his posture relaxed slightly.

"I would like for you to continue, Harry," he instructed smoothly. His tone was reserved. "If you feel you cannot, then I will begin this discussion as _I _see fit."

If there was a threat underlying the statement, it was obscure. Harry considered his expressionless countenance for a moment; this was Severus, relenting. It might have been a small change, but it helped. Harry took a breath of fortitude and firmly reminded himself that he had to address his Father as a man, not a student.

He knew that there was nothing left for it. Whatever it was that had triggered his Father's strangely suspicious behavior, he realized that the symptoms of Severus' mistrust could never be alleviated unless he told him the entire truth.

"This morning made me realize a lot of things," Harry began slowly, supposing he ought to start at the beginning. "I thought you should know that I understand the importance of what we're doing, and I'm fully prepared to dedicate myself to this the same way you have."

Though the expression on Severus' face indicated that he was searching for meaning behind Harry's plainly stated words, he nevertheless seemed pleased. "That is…rewarding…to hear."

"And I've been thinking a lot about what you said before…about mutual respect, and all that…"

"Yes." Severus spoke as though to both prompt Harry forward and to reinforce the truth of what he was saying.

"There's something I haven't told you."

If silence could take on a physical presence, Harry felt it might slowly suffocate him. Severus' expression remained impassive, but from where he sat, he had somehow taken on the stance of a dog with its hackles raised. Harry did not respond, let alone allow himself to breath, for a long moment.

"I suggest you explain yourself, Harry, and quickly," said Severus at last. Harry released the air he'd been holding in his lungs; he was far from relieved, but it was at least a more gracious response than he'd expected.

Once the words began to pour from Harry, there was nothing to dam them. He hurried through his explanation of what Ron and Hermione had recounted to him; as he went, he felt the guilt that had been hanging over him slowly alleviating, even though his dread of Severus' eventual reaction, once he finished speaking, increased.

When he had finished, Severus continued to contemplate him. Harry waited for his fate to unfold, but Severus merely folded his hands in his lap and continued to watch him.

"I'm sorry," Harry offered feebly, after Severus did not speak for a length of time. "I know I should have told you sooner—"

"You certainly should have."

"—I thought you had tired of me telling you about Malfoy, and I didn't want to make you angry again…even though I have, now…"

"I…_appreciate_," Severus ground the word out with difficulty, "that you have come to me on your own, albeit rather late. I am perturbed at a number of things, Harry, but I would have been far angrier had you continued to keep this from me."

Harry nodded in understanding and looked down. "I thought you would be frustrated if I brought Malfoy up again."

"In this instance, Harry, this may merit some investigation. On _my _part, however, not yours, or your little friends. They never should have followed him."

"I didn't tell them to," Harry defended.

"I realize that," Severus acknowledged. "Perhaps my initial request that you leave them in the dark was ill-advised."

Before he realized what he was doing, Harry blanched visibly. Severus' eyebrow quirked in response.

"Am I to understand that you have _not _kept them in the dark, then?"

Squeezing his eyes shut so that he could not see his Father's reaction, Harry shook his head and braced for the storm.

"Harry…" his name escaped his Father in a low hiss; he said it as though it were a curse word, rather than his given name.

One eye popped open, then the other. Harry blinked a few times to be certain that what he saw in front of him was real. Severus was not looming over him, fuming; he was hunched over with his head resting in his hands.

If someone were to ask what had happened to him, he might have answered that he had finally been defeated by his son's stupidity.

Quietly, Harry offered, "It was the only way to stop them."

"Other than by consulting me, you mean," Severus reminded him; his sarcasm was only dampened by the muffling effect of the hands cradling his forehead.

"Other than that, yes."

"Well, I'll have to speak to Dumbledore at once," said Severus decidedly, correcting his posture so quickly he might have never moved. He sighed tiredly, and glanced around at a spot far above Harry's head. He had the expression of one begging a deity for help.

"They won't speak of it," Harry said confidently, and Severus eyed him with doubt. "I'm serious. I told them not to—not even to Dumbledore—and they won't. They've kept my secrets for six years now, they wouldn't betray me."

"For their own good, and for yours, I should hope not," Severus warned him. He did look, however, somewhat placated.

"And I wouldn't have gone after him, so you know," Harry added; it was a last ditch effort to appease the older man.

"It is infinitely important that you hold on to that wisdom, Harry."

"Really, I wouldn't have," Harry promised him, ignoring his cynicism.

Severus sighed, relenting, and leaned back in his chair. "What am I to do with you, Harry?"

Harry shrugged helplessly, and thought he could almost see the corners of his Father's mouth lift up. Whatever mirth had momentarily graced his face, however, was quickly replaced with a look of solemnity as he began to speak again.

"It is now as imperative as ever that you limit your contact with Malfoy. You mustn't alert him to the fact that you've any idea of what he's been doing. I am serious, Harry. He will never betray himself if he knows what he ought to hide. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"And you understand that you may come to me with _anything_ rather than pursue it on your own."

"Yes."

Severus took pause, his lips drawn tight as he stared at Harry, apparently contemplating the necessity of any further admonition. Under his Father's scrutiny, Harry tried to reflect the look of being chastised; he thought that just perhaps, if he could be excused now, he might actually escape this encounter unscathed. He could not quell the beginnings of hope which were breaking through a suppressive layer of guilt.

"We will return to Hogwarts tomorrow afternoon," said Severus definitively, and then folded his hands as though he had finished speaking.

Though it felt rather foolish, Harry experienced the momentary thrill of victory as the words left Severus' lips. He had avoided what he had believed to be an impending lecture. The look in Severus' eyes, however, told him that the threat had not yet passed. Before his Father could speak, Harry yawned, stretching his arms out to the side. Severus' eyes narrowed a bit further at the dramatic display, and Harry decided not to test his luck.

"Alright," he said in an appropriately dampened tone. He felt a moment of self-reproach for his inappropriate sense of giddiness, and reminded himself of the serious nature of the situation. "I really _was _going to tell you. I am sorry… about everything, you know…"

"I do know," said Severus tiredly. "I am just beginning to wonder—"

He broke off in the middle of his sentence, and broke eye contact. Harry waited for him to continue, but he sat still and silently for several minutes.

"What?"

Severus looked to be searching for the right words, but coming up at an uncharacteristic loss. "Perhaps," he said in the tone of one admitting defeat, "it is best we end this conversation for now."

"Okay," Harry agreed reluctantly, standing. He thought perhaps he understood what Severus had not said, but could not be sure. He felt unsettled by his Father's manner. How the man could communicate feelings of disappointment silently was beyond him, but it read more clearly in his expression than if the words had left his mouth.

"Goodnight, Harry," said Severus in recognition that their conversation had ended.

"Goodnight, Dad," responded Harry, more quietly than he intended, as he slipped out the door.

As Harry tread quickly down the corridor and up to his room, he silently cursed his entire weekend's worth of inaction. By delaying the inevitable, he had nearly damned himself. It was by some great fortune that his Father had granted him reprieve, for now.

Harry just couldn't help but to question whether the consequences of tomorrow would surpass the consequences of today.

xxx End Chapter xxx

**AN: _Wipes sweat from brow._ I labored over this one; that is certain. The culmination of my many ideas over the years has just begun, and I am excited to expand upon them now.**

**This chapter was almost long enough to break into two, but as the 50th chapter of this 7 year labor of love, I could not bear to break it apart.**

**Knowing you're here with me means so much, to both the new and the old readers. Thank you for sticking with me :)**

**Reviews are so appreciated, lovely readers.**


	51. Discrimination

Chapter 51

Discrimination

xxx

"I believe I owe you the courtesy of a warning."

This was the sentence that punctuated the equilibrium of their silence as Harry and Snape descended the steps to the dungeons.

Harry's eyes instantly flew to meet Snape's, and what he met there was a sense of firm calm that suggested a confidence of conviction. His expression held neither ire nor anxiety, but acceptance of whatever Harry's reaction might be to his subsequent confession.

"You may not like me very much, a few moments from now."

Harry swallowed. On the day of their return to the castle, Harry had prepared himself for a number of things. The admission his Father had just uttered was not one of them. He had already endured the unease of the day; his conversation with Severus the prior evening had ended on an unsettling note, and neither man had confronted the issues since. He had hoped that once he reached the castle, he would be free to escape the man's shrewd glances and pregnant pauses.

"Sir?" he questioned.

"I will explain, momentarily," Severus replied in a subdued voice. "But perhaps not here. I would simply like to brace you for the fact that we are not on our way to tea."

As the two rounded the corner to the deserted corridor just ahead of Snape's office, the older man reached into the pocket of his robes. The envelope he then pulled from the black folds looked as though it had endured a lifetime's mistreatment. He halted and extended it to Harry, who stood staring at the envelope in consternation.

"Take it," commanded Severus unapologetically. "It is yours."

Harry frowned, his arm outstretched; as confusion gave way to the beginnings of comprehension, he snatched the tarnished envelope. Its ripped flap hung agape, and he quickly pulled the parchment from inside. He unfolded an equally abused letter, and began to read.

Snape did not hesitate, waiting for a reaction. As Harry's eyes scanned the letter, Severus began to speak. "I know that you will be angry with me for having chosen the action that I did," Severus stated solemnly. It was not that self-reproach was completely absent from his persona, it was that he seemed to accept that this was the only way to resolve the problem they now faced.

Turning a deaf ear to his Father momentarily, Harry finished reading the letter. When his eyes had drifted over the last line of fine black script, he continued to stare at the paper if only to allow himself a few moments to formulate a response.

"You…you read this?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"I did."

"So, what I told you yesterday, you—"

"I had intended to confront you with it," Severus explained calmly. "When you confessed before I had the chance to do so, I took the evening to decide how next to approach."

A surmounting sense of indignation was suspended only by the incredulity Harry felt towards the situation as a whole. He could not immediately comprehend the consequences of this letter for him and his friends, nor could he analyze the comparison of the actual feelings he had towards his Father in this moment in versus the feelings that he ought to have. He knew that it was right to feel blighted, as though a terrible invasion had occurred, and yet he was so blindsided by his Father's uncharacteristically straightforward approach that he couldn't decide which thought to acknowledge first.

Severus had begun to walk again, and Harry had to jog several steps in order to catch him. What Harry might have considered the beginning of an impressive monologue was put to rest before the words could even arrange into some semblance of sense. As they turned the corner to the last hallway leading to his office, Harry faltered. Standing in front of Severus' office door, looking respectively anxious and defiant, were Hermione and Ron.

Before the man had even started his purposeful walk towards his friends, Harry knew what was about to happen. He understood, now, why Severus had thought to warn him.

Severus reached the door to his office in several quick steps, greeting the two Gryffindors brusquely before allowing them entrance. Hermione's eyes were wide as they met Harry's behind Severus' back; he knew that she, like himself, understood the circumstances. Yet both were powerless to change their fortune.

"You may be seated," Severus said to them all, removing his outer robes and casting them over his own chair before sinking into it.

"The letter, Harry—"

Harry understood the question behind her words even as she whispered them under her breath to him. They stared at each other, and Harry shook his head subtly, as though to assure her that he was just as surprised as she was.

As they arranged themselves in a line in front of Snape's desk, with Hermione seated in the middle, she stared up at him with apprehension. "What is all of this about, sir?"

"I do not think we need to maintain the pretense of naivety any longer, Miss Granger."

"Sir?"

"The letter, Harry," Severus said in way of command, beckoning for the letter impatiently. Begrudgingly, Harry foisted the parchments towards him. He privately thought that Severus had a lot of audacity to demand it as though it had now become his property. In the presence of his friends, however, and with their fates at stake, he didn't dare to speak. He would have plenty of time for that, later.

Severus began to read aloud, and the grace of his voice might have been soothing but for the fact that the three of them cringed with each sentence he uttered. When he finished, he released the letter calmly and let it drift down to the desk, staring at them as though he had just read nothing more important than the business ads out of the Daily Prophet.

"I am going to give you a chance to speak first, Miss Granger."

Harry and Ron's eyes met as they both turned to face Hermione, who was sinking down into her seat as though it were made out of quicksand. Her eyes downturned, they fluttered closed in a way that might have been mistaken for a painstakingly long blink, and then they were open again as she lifted her head and looked back to the Professor.

"No?" Severus prodded inquisitively, but Hermione sat forward in her chair. He lifted his eyebrows in challenge.

"Professor Snape," she began, her voice faltering at first. She took a breath and began again, gaining strength. "If we're dropping pretenses, I should start by saying that I don't know how you came about that letter but it was meant for Harry."

Behind her, a loud smack drew several pairs of eyes to Ron; his palm was pressed against his forehead, and he was staring at Hermione, apparently astounded. When he realized the attention of the room had shifted to him, he peeled his hand from his face and tucked it into his lap, averting his wide eyes from the scene.

"Yes, I am well aware of the secrecy between the three of you," responded Snape bitingly. "I inquire as to the _need_ for it."

Hermione's head turned slightly towards Harry, and he knew that he could not let Hermione bear the weight of handling his Father on her own.

"It's not her fault," said Harry, and Hermione winced. Harry knew she understood what he was sacrificing by admitting this. "She said we should come to you."

"And yet no one did," said Snape gravely.

"I told them not to. I told you, my friends have always been loyal to me."

Beside him, Ron and Hermione were nodding their heads slowly in agreement.

"That is a very nice sentiment," responded Snape to the children in front of them. "However, I did not call you here for a lesson on the strength of your friendship. I asked you three to come here, together, so that there may be no confusion or miscommunication between the three of you from now on. I am going to tell you exactly what I expect of you, and then none of you can claim ignorance for the rest of the time in which we are acquainted.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, in following Malfoy the other night, you risked your lives. I shouldn't need to explain, but to avoid confusion, I will. You underestimate Draco Malfoy; you have been attending school together since you were children, and you still consider him to be within the realm of your power. Draco Malfoy is no longer a mere student, however. He is a Death Eater. He is not an agent of Dumbledore. There is a real possibility that he could lead you to danger. You must acknowledge that, first and foremost."

"Professor," said Hermione slowly, with difficulty, as she glanced apprehensively in Ron's direction. Though the other boy did not respond verbally, he nodded once to encourage her on. "Don't you think that is a little unfair?"

Hermione's speech was tentative, as though she realized she was close to an invisible line; her face, however, conveyed an actively working mind and a determination to maintain her position.

"My assessment, Miss Granger?"

"Yes. I think you have the wrong idea of the spirit in which we act on our own."

"You would have me believe," said Snape with eyes narrowed, "that you were completely _aware _of the stupidity of your actions?"

"That's what's unfair, Professor. You really believe we are _stupid_? Me, one of your best students? Harry, your son?" She glanced over in Ron's direction, but apparently decided to stop there. He scowled and folded his arms.

Harry was paying very little attention to his friends. He was watching his Father's expression as it moved from steadfast firmness to concession. He inclined his head only slightly, and his eyes flickered from Hermione's face, to Ron's, and back to Harry. His gaze rested there for several minutes, and then he sat back in his chair, broadening his gaze to all three of them.

"If not done in the name of stupidity, then in the name of what, Miss Granger?"

"I think Harry already told you, sir. Loyalty. In the last six years of our lives, while we might have made some reckless decisions, we made them out of necessity because no one else would act. We aren't ignorant of the danger; we risk it because we want to help Harry."

Severus evaluated Hermione shrewdly. "If you think I am working towards different ends, you are mistaken. Why not utilize the resources at your disposal?"

"What resources?" Ron finally spoke up, the tone of his voice suggesting he had finally been spurred to action by his frustration with Snape.

"Do you forget the years I spent in the Dark Lord's service?" Snape ground out, turning a harsh glare on Ron. "I believe I have erred in the fact that I have been repeatedly reprimanding Harry, when I did not realize how the three of you acted as a unit. Perhaps, by dealing with you as a triplet of trouble, I can get to the source of the problem. You must stop acting on your own. You must come to me—"

"How are we to come to you when you're always so _angry_?" Ron blurted out, but a look of regret instantly overcame him.

"Excuse me, Weasley?" Severus' tone was sharp, his eyes bright with trained emotion.

Ron's eyes were pressed closed; he looked as though he were willing himself back in time to stop his own mouth from betraying him. "Please don't give me detention," he mumbled in a rush of breath, and next to him, Hermione sighed.

"That _is _the problem, Professor," she admitted, saving Ron from having to speak. "However you choose to state it…"

"Sometimes, you're terrifying," added Harry from her side.

To everyone's surprise, a corner of Severus' lips turned upwards. The half-smile did not match the dark look in his eyes, however, as he considered the children before him. He looked menacingly satisfied with their evaluation of his demeanor.

"Flattered though I may be," responded Snape sardonically, dark brows forming a high arch above his hooked nose, "that I am able to intimidate such a _brave _group of Gryffindors, I admit that I am a bit disappointed. I had thought better of you than all of that."

"_Better _of us? Not five minutes ago, you were calling us idiots, and now—"

"Don't be brash, Harry," snapped Severus, the amusement fading from his expression.

"It seems I have to be, to make you listen."

Severus' jaws were working as though he were clenching and unclenching his teeth, tempering his own response. "By all means then," he said stiffly, hands splayed open. "I am listening."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to still himself. At this moment, he felt the enormity of giving voice to what seemed like a thousand thoughts pressing at the front of his mind. He felt a rush of anticipation, and he knew that if he did not clear his head, he would never articulate what he held most important.

"You told me just the other day that you realize that you can be overbearing, and that you act that way out of concern," said Harry. "But you have been overbearing for the entire time we have known you, to the point of cruelty, even. You expect us to change the way we react to you, and yet you've changed nothing about the way you treat us!"

"Harry-" came Hermione's soothing voice at his side, but he ignored her.

"If you can invade my privacy, insult our intelligence, and impose your will on us all in the name of concern, excusing your actions only by explaining that it is simply 'your way', then why can't we do the same and act out of the same sense of duty that we always have? If you can explain away the rashness of _your _actions, then why can't I?"

"Because as your parent, I have a right to do what I see fit, if it results in your protection—"

"That's _bull_!" Harry exclaimed forcefully; he stated it as a fact, and would not accept anything else.

"Harry!" This time, Hermione's voice cut through Harry's closed off consciousness, and he took another deep breath, calming himself. He knew that this was a product of the resentment he felt towards a number of things, and also that he needed to control himself if he was to solve anything.

"You ought to tread lightly, Harry," said Severus after a length of silence, his dark eyes working furiously as he evaluated the boy before him. "You are nearing the point of no return. I will be clear: I am permitting this _one _mistake to go unpunished. There won't be another."

"Yes, sir," said Harry begrudgingly, looking away. He knew that he should not shout at his Father, and he knew that the man could have chosen to react much more angrily towards him and his friends than he had thus far. He felt a sharp desire for justice, though, stabbing at an already open wound: he had to make himself heard.

For what seemed like an inordinately long amount of time, no one in the room spoke. Harry felt as though it were unwise to speak until Severus had said his piece; from what he could tell, his friends agreed with him.

Severus sat across from the three adolescents, uncertain how to proceed. At the beginning of the day, as he had contemplated the consequences in store for the young Gryffindors, he had concluded that the best course of action was to appeal to their more noble natures. He had intended to bring them together and to convince them, collectively, to act in what he deemed a more rational way. What he was beginning to understand, however, was that he was rapidly losing his audience. He wanted to lash out at them for their defiance, yet he knew to do so would be the final alienating blow.

"So," intoned Severus at last, "I am to understand, you believe there is a double standard here?"

"Well…yes," Harry replied, irritation still edging its way into his tone. "I think you expect me to do everything you say, but explain everything you do with some absolute excuse of 'I'm the adult'. When will _I _be in an adult, in your eyes?"

"When you start acting like one."

"That's what you always say," Harry responded softly, and Severus found himself unexpectedly moved by the desperation in his voice. "But I don't think there's anything I could do to convince you that I'm ready."

At Harry's sudden turn in tone, Severus felt the conversation shifting to a new dynamic. His initial thought was to send his friends from the room; he would have liked to deal with his son one on one, for this. However, he had brought them together for a purpose, and that purpose had not been accomplished. He knew that when Harry was outside of his influences, it was his friends he turned to. He needed them all to understand that he existed not only as a harsh authority figure whom they needed to avoid, but as a reliable confidant. Observing the mutual defiance in their expressions, he realized the scale of the endeavor.

"I have tried, repeatedly," Severus began, weariness and frustration apparent in all of his mannerisms, "to change the light in which I view you. All of you," he added, looking pointedly to Ron and Hermione. "However, the attempts are made in your absence. When I am sitting quietly in my office, grading my papers, I am not plotting how next to destroy your sense of independence. I am considering exactly the opposite. However, any of those thoughts are often countered by some impending catastrophe of your design.

"I understand, you think I am unfair. I have heard that, loud and clear. However, I would like you to consider that perhaps the reason you always expect an angry reaction is because somewhere, deep down in the recesses of your impetuous little Gryffindor brains, you realize that you are partially guilty of the rashness and immaturity with which I accuse you."

"Perhaps, sometimes, you deserve it. Perhaps, sometimes, you need to be reprimanded by someone as harsh as myself. I think it is for your good; disagree with me all you would like, but I do not treat you cruelly for the hell of it. I do not use my status as a Professor and a parent to bully you mercilessly. I try, at least, to use it in order to protect you."

"But we don't need—"

"_Do not_," warned Severus firmly, "tell me that you don't need to be protected. We _all _need to be protected. You are fortunate that you currently remain one of the protected, not of the sacrificed."

What Severus realized, as he said this, and what Harry realized as well, was that he was referring to himself in the number of the sacrificed. He knew the costs of the war they were fighting. He had known it when Dumbledore had placed him on the alter years ago, asking him to spy when what he had truly desired had been to run. And he recognized it now, as he saw that the importance of the task was worth his life, and was worth the lives of those who had sacrificed themselves so far. He couldn't allow his son to take this for granted, not only for himself, but for those countless others as well.

"What I am trying to tell you, Harry, and you two," he said, sparing a glance to his friends, "is that being treated as an adult does not mean giving you free reign to do as you please if it means placing you in danger. When you stop making dangerous decisions, I will give you more freedom. Until then, I will allow you to think of me as your enemy, if it will protect you. I will react harshly to your misdeeds if it will make you understand how wrong they are. I will invade your privacy if I feel you are hiding secrets that might bring you to harm. I will let you hate me, if it means keeping you safe."

Harry's breath escaped him in a forceful rush, matching the horrible clenching feeling of having received a sharp blow to the gut. He wanted to look away from his Father, wanted to evaluate his friends sitting silently beside him, but for some reason he could not tear his eyes away from the mixture of fierce determination and painful resignation in Severus' countenance.

He didn't know how to respond. He didn't know where to begin, or where he would end once he had. He felt an instinctive impulse to apologize, but was unsure which words to offer up as penance. Had he misjudged his Father? Perhaps not intentionally. He had never thought the man didn't care for him, but he had rarely _felt _it as he did in this moment. The nature of the conversation, however, was not one of sentimentality. Severus' manner was fierce and intimidating; he felt as though he were staring the frightful beast of logic in the face, unwilling to speak for fear of saying the wrong thing yet again.

Hermione and Ron couldn't save him now, he knew. They were just as stunned as he was. It was not their battle to win; they were simply in league with him, waiting to follow at his command.

"I don't hate you," Harry said at last, knowing that it was the one thing he could say in truth. "I could never hate you, now."

"I am glad to hear it," answered Severus' in subdued tones, his expression unchanging.

"And I have tried to do as you say, and act more rationally…but I can't help the unexpected things that come up. I always end up in the same place: sitting in front of your desk, feeling awful, and looking back and seeing how right you are, but powerless to go back and change my actions. My hindsight is great, but in the moment, when I don't know everything… it's so hard to guess what you would want me to do. I can only do what _I _have always done, and that's to act quickly."

"We _want _to do the right thing," said Hermione quietly at his side. "But we don't always have the resources to do so."

"Precisely my point, Miss Granger," replied Severus with some satisfaction. "I do."

"It's that you don't take us seriously," said Harry. "How many times have I told you something suspicious about Malfoy? And you refuse to explain his actions, even though you have knowledge that could help me understand. When I jump to conclusions about him and run to you again, you say to me still that I don't understand it and don't need to. But don't you understand, if I knew everything about him ahead of time, I might have made different decisions?"

"If Ron and I had known about Malfoy before seeing him in the woods, we wouldn't have followed him," Hermione added, as if to support Harry's claims in case Severus needed clarification. "But all we knew was that you didn't seem to take Harry seriously about him, and we thought if you didn't believe he was up to something, and we could help prove it to you, it might save Harry from whatever Malfoy was planning. I know, it was still foolish and impulsive, but it seemed necessary, at the time, because we didn't know anything."

The sound Severus emitted resembled a drawling chuckle, but it didn't seem possible that something so benign could sound so dark. "I see," he said after a moment of considering them, looking something akin to impressed, though not quite there. "So you claim innocence to any accusations of folly due to your ignorance of the facts and evidence surrounding the loyalty, or lack-thereof, of Draco Malfoy?

"Yes," said the three Gryffindors in unison, with varying degrees of confidence and relief at having finally communicated this message.

Severus sighed deeply. "I do not intend for you to fear me—" Severus began, only pausing slightly at the sudden interruption of Ron's obnoxious snorting sound, "—so much that I become the one you are fighting."

"I don't think any of us consciously _fights_ you, Professor," offered Hermione.

"I am not concerned by what you choose to name your tactics of evasion and defiance, I would just like for them to cease." His words were harsher than he seemed to realize, by the way he had delivered them. "Now, I hope that we have reached an understanding here today. What I would like for you to take away from this is that _I _am not your enemy, even though it might appear so at times."

"We understand that," answered Hermione.

"We shall see," replied Severus in a cynically dubious tone of voice, expression flat.

"Do you understand _us_?" asked Harry pointedly, lifting his eyebrows.

"I _realize_," Severus said with difficulty, his eyes level with them even as they seemed to want to roll upwards as an expression of his annoyance, "why you have felt as though your lack of knowledge was a disadvantage. Where I often believe that these matters ought not to concern you, perhaps I did not take into account that you feel as though you are being treated like children. The information I am privy to carries certain responsibilities, and I have not wanted you to bear that burden. However, if it will help you to act more judiciously, I will answer your questions honestly in the future. Though, I do hope you realize what you are asking for. The realities I have spared you are often harsher than I believe you anticipate."

The three children exchanged glances quickly, as though to be discrete, but none of them spoke to one another. Harry turned to his Father. "We will accept whatever responsibilities we must."

"I am glad to hear it," said Severus with a lilt to his tone somewhat like mocking, but it was hard to pinpoint exactly what lent it that quality. "Now, as to the letter. I think you realize why I felt within my rights to open it, and I hope in the future you will not feel the need for so much secrecy. May we put this issue to rest?"

Though he knew his efforts would be wasted, Harry felt a subtle urge to avenge the indignation he'd felt earlier. He wanted Severus to _know _how angry his actions had made him. He did, however, realize that this was an urge borne of impracticality. He would accomplish nothing by railing against an offense his Father had freely admitted to, and for which he knew the older man would not repent of.

"I might remind you that the three of you have broken a number of rules over the past week," said Severus. "If you would prefer to address them individually, we certainly may."

"No need for that, Professor," Hermione abruptly responded, when Harry failed to do so. There was a nervous quality to her voice that she masked with inappropriate laughter. "Right, Harry?"

"Right," Harry admitted, prompted by her eyes, which were fixed on him pleadingly. If he were to admit it to himself, he was fortunate that this conversation had ended in his favor.

xxx

"But Professor Snape, isn't it sort of mean?" asked first year Orrin Kelly, whose slightly round, freckled face was crumpling sadly under the pressure of being directed to dismember a portion of Scarab beetles.

Severus whirled in the direction of the small voice, his lips pressed firm. "Mr. Kelly, these are a common Potions ingredient, not your pets. They are already dead, at any cost."

The eleven year old had no response for him except for a faint quiver in his facial muscles. Next to him, his partner giggled.

Severus sighed and relented; it occurred to him that he was perhaps softening in his old age, but he had no desire to humiliate this particularly sensitive student.

"Begin to clean your work stations," said Severus, moving back to his desk. "We will continue on Wednesday. I expect you all to return to class _prepared_."

As the students completed their work for the day and finally began to file past him, Severus mused that this was not even his most challenging task of the day. An inevitable meeting with Dumbledore loomed over him; it was the start of the school week, the beginning of May, and the day of the first Order meeting in several months. There wasn't a single reason that would excuse Severus from meeting with the Headmaster.

The subjects weighing on Severus' mind were heavy; Malfoy's viability as a spy over Kinnaird was one, and secondly Harry's recent shift in ideals. Both topics required action, and Severus was tasked with conveying the importance of this to the Headmaster. He would need to portray the events that had recently elapsed in such a way that Dumbledore would come to see their current situation through the exact scope Severus was looking through.

This was the dilemma that Severus contemplated some time later, as he sat in Dumbledore's office waiting for the man to return from whatever task had drawn him away. Impatiently, Severus glanced at the clock, and back at the fireplace. It was a quarter past four, with the Order meeting a short forty-five minutes away. They were already pressed for time.

"Ah, Severus, I am glad you are here," said Dumbledore when he finally strode through the door several minutes later.

"I should be saying the same to you," remarked Severus, remaining seated as Dumbledore moved behind his desk.

"I apologize for my tardiness," Dumbledore responded placatingly. "I had the most unfortunate run in with young Mr. Creevey as he was coming out of Herbology. Suffice it to say that a visit to the hospital wing was necessary; I felt obligated to escort him there."

"How benevolent you are, Headmaster."

"And as another matter of interest," Dumbledore continued mildly, "It was there that I ran into Mr. Malfoy. Did you know he had returned to the infirmary as of this morning?"

Dumbledore asked in a tone that suggested he might already know the answer, but it appeared that what he was not expecting Severus answer when he replied. "I was unaware, Headmaster. Is he—"

"Yes, fine. At least, physically. I had it from him that Professor McGonagall sent him there this morning when he showed up to class sleep deprived and bearing the scars of this weekend's difficulties. He would not confide in me any further than that. I believe, Severus, it is coming time to intervene. It seems inhumane to leave him to this fate any longer—"

"Albus, if you are thinking that you can save Mr. Malfoy from this fate by pulling him away from the influence of his family and the Dark Lord, you will bring a rain of fire down on us like we have never experienced before," Severus warned, rigid as he examined Dumbledore's features. "The Dark Lord has taken him on as his final tether to this world—as a young vessel through which he may act for the next century. If you pull him, you risk an attack, not only on us but on Harry as well."

"It seems a risk to have Mr. Kinnaird and Mr. Malfoy in constant observance of each other; Voldemort will not need to look far to discern which information they volunteer is true and which is fabricated."

"Then take Kinnaird out," suggested Severus, to which Dumbledore frowned.

"Severus, what do you see when you look at Mr. Kinnaird?"

"A complication," Severus growled.

"Severus," said Dumbledore firmly. "I intend to ask, what do you believe his motives are? Why are you so certain that he will fail? I feel you hate him for reasons beyond his abilities."

"What has he done for us that has been particularly helpful, Albus? What has he done to prove his allegiance?"

"He has given me his word, and I believe that an opportunity will one day present itself when we will be glad that we had him in place—"

"So we are wasting our time and resources on a man who _might _give us an advantage _one day_?"

"What would you suggest, Severus?" Dumbledore queried. "You never gave up your work willingly because you understood how important it was that you could be there to influence the mind of Voldemort and to bring us essential information. We need someone; I am sorry if Mr. Kinnaird is not your first choice, but I don't know what other option you think that we have."

"What about Mr. Malfoy?" asked Severus sharply, to which Dumbledore frowned.

"He may help us if he desires, but I am not going to risk giving him any sort of information that might incriminate us. It would be suicide, Severus, to trust him."

"What if it wasn't?" Severus' voice was low, the solemnity of it garnering Dumbledore's full attention as he gazed at Severus with interest.

"How could we know?"

"Recently, Mr. Malfoy returned from one of his weekends away a great deal worse for the wear; what he returned with was the final ingredient for our potion. In around two months, we may finally be able to release Harry from the connection which binds him inextricably to the Dark Lord. This is due to Draco's work, not Kinnaird's, and it was done in the absence of any request. Perhaps he is no more trustworthy than Kinnaird, but I am certain at least of his immense value to us. I am not certain of Kinnaird's."

Across the desk, Dumbledore's consciousness seemed to disappear behind a cloud of thought. His eyes were momentarily vacant, his features frozen as he stared ahead, and then he returned, a new light of intelligence flashing in his eyes.

"This has so many implications," said the Headmaster softly. "Why did you not inform me sooner?"

"I took time to verify that Malfoy's claims were correct, and that the sample he returned with was in fact of the Dark Lord." It was the truth, but not the whole truth, Severus knew. "I wanted to be certain of the news I had to bring you."

"We have less time than we thought, it seems."

Severus agreed, "It seems. Which is why I suggest that now, if ever, we must trim the fat, so to speak."

"I will not dismiss Mr. Kinnaird and seal his fate in such a way simply because of your dislike of him, Severus. It is not only unethical, it places us at an even further disadvantage. Furthermore, I am still unconvinced of Mr. Malfoy's loyalty."

"We cannot be certain of _anyone's _loyalty until all has been said and done, Albus. I know what the Dark Lord wants to hear, and I am well trained to recognize the information that will incriminate us. I have given neither man anything of the sort. This is a matter of your trust in my skills of discernment, Albus."

"I have faith in your abilities, but—"

"Then _listen _to me," hissed Severus, aware of the vehemence in his voice only after he had spoken. Briefly closing his eyes, he leveled his voice and continued. "I will respect your decision to keep Mr. Kinnaird within your sphere of influence, Albus, but I request that you allow me to stop wasting my extremely valuable time on him if he does not produce results. I believe my efforts would be better spent on influencing Draco; he is young, moldable. He could still be helped, brought over to our side. _Only_, however, if you do not scare him off. Promise me, you will allow me to dedicate some time to affecting my influence over him."

"I will consider it, Severus. But as to Kinnaird, I am unwilling to sacrifice him based on your opinion. I hope you can see the sense in that."

Severus wanted to growl in response, but instead he spoke. "I hope _you _will realize that should others be in my position, they would be of the same mind. This is not dependent on my surly nature, Albus, despite what you may think."

"Perhaps we will see about that," Dumbledore replied vaguely.

Irritated with the old man's inability to commit to a decision, Severus gestured his deference and changed the subject. "I have been rather consumed, of late, in dealing with my son. Harry has begun his training in White Magic. He and his friends seemed to have reached a point, as well, where they realize the imminence of the threat. They are chomping at the bit, Albus, almost outside of my control."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that they feel the pressure of what must be accomplished, and it is encouraging in them a newfound sense of independence. They are constantly acting on their impulses."

"Certainly a force to reckon with, if their past behavior is any indication. Correct me if I am wrong, but it seems independence has always been one of their more prominent traits?"

"True, Albus, but I previously saw audacious defiance rather than a growing sense of autonomy. We must be able to occupy them; we might steady their hands by keeping them busy."

"How?"

"They require a sense of importance. Perhaps, if they were given the information that helps us to exercise sound judgment, they might develop a more dutiful sense of responsibility. They might stop acting so rashly if they did not feel it was necessary to act in such a way."

"Severus, if what you are suggesting-"

"They will all soon be of age, Albus," stated Severus firmly. "And we must stop coddling them. I can think of no better way to help them to grow into the adult roles they insist on playing than to teach them to appreciate the responsibilities that accompany adulthood."

"Do you really believe they are ready?"

"They will never be ready. But there is no better way to teach a bird how to fly than to push it from the nest."

"And if they don't fly?"

"Then they will have learned to stop jumping on their own."

xxx

"I maintain that the meetings I have with Professor Snape are vital to my success. I may not seem immediately disposable to the Dark Lord, but it is my proximity to Harry Potter—" A huff of annoyance came from Severus, but Kinnaird did not seem to notice the slip. The fact remained that the rest of the world had coined his son's familial name as more of a phrase than an assignment of identity.

"—that interests him. Harry's progress has been, for some time now, the Dark Lord's main topic of inquiry. If I can no longer report that, I cannot guess what other uses he will find for me."

"I, for one, do not approve of using the boy as leverage for Mr. Kinnaird's success," McGonagall bit out in a factual tone, as though she were lecturing a class. Indeed, she looked as though she were silently instructing them as she sharply met the gaze of those sitting around her. "Quite a slippery slope, don't you agree?"

Branson Kinnaird was standing over the long, curved table, shoulders thrust forward and knuckles white as his palms pressed hard against the wooden surface. He stared hard at McGonagall, and replied, "I never meant to imply that I intend to _use _the boy. I do not barter details about his personal life to tickle the fancy of the Dark Lord, nor do I reveal damaging information about him for some evil purpose."

Behind him, almost absent mindedly, Severus rolled his eyes at the melodramatic nature of it all. At least the young man looked convinced of the act he was putting forward. His stance was emphatic, his demeanor one of presumptuous importance. Severus stealthily assessed the few Order members seated around the table. It was a small, private meeting that they had been in dire need of for some time now. Kinnaird's attendance had only served to heighten the tension between the Headmaster and himself; it was unprecedented, and as far as Severus was concerned, ill-advised.

"Severus, you brought us to this topic, perhaps you might share your thoughts," McGonagall stated stiffly from the end of the table's arch, nearest to Dumbledore in the center of the room.

Severus's eyes snapped to attention at the mention of his name, even while the rest of him remained still, leaning back into his chair with his arms folded firmly across his chest. When he responded, it was in slow, deliberate tones. "I have already given my thoughts on the subject, but I will respond. Firstly, I hope that no one in this room would think it acceptable to use my son for personal gain. That goes without saying. Any offender would answer a fate far worse than that at the hands of the Dark Lord."

Severus' eyes were thunderous as he glanced at Kinnaird, and then to Dumbledore. His irritation with the Headmaster was mounting with each annoyance that Kinnaird uttered. Severus could only hope that the other Order members would draw the same conclusions about him as Severus had reached; it was only that hope that kept his tongue firmly locked behind bars of teeth.

"And secondly, Severus?" replied Dumbledore, his demeanor maddeningly serene as he nodded in Severus' direction.

"Secondly," answered Severus after a beat, "I have given my dissent on the issue of my meetings with Mr. Kinnaird. They are beginning to seem unnecessary, and I believe he should move on to more industrious pursuits. A majority of our time spent together is relatively unproductive."

"Yes," interrupted Kinnaird tensely, "Because you spend most of the time _shouting_ at me."

"An exaggeration," Severus replied, waving his hand as if to silence the sound of his voice. "And at any cost, I fear this has become a forum for the lodging of complaints. I move to adjourn, if there are no objections."

As if in warning, Severus stared stonily around the table at his colleagues.

"Severus is right," McGonagall stated definitively. "Mr. Kinnaird, you had requested brevity, due to an impending meeting of upmost importance; is that time not drawing near?"

McGonagall's eyes had moved to Kinnaird, whom Severus could observe contemplating his response several seats away.

"Indeed," said Kinnaird as he released his grip on the table and smoothed his hair back. "I hope that when I return, you will have considered what I have said—not for my own selfish pursuits, as you have suggested, but for the greater good."

_For the greater good_, Severus sneered disdainfully at the cliché, his eyes fixed intently on the back of Kinnaird's skull as he exited the room.

'

"I haven't any idea what you meant by bringing that man into this meeting." The words were out of McGonagall's mouth before the door had fully closed behind him. Her tone was disapproving. "He has no place in these affairs."

"My dear Professor McGonagall," replied Dumbledore pleasantly, "That is precisely why I invited him to this meeting. I thought you all might help decide a disagreement Severus and I have been having for quite some time now. In addition to my and Severus' opinions, I value yours. "

"I asked before, and I will ask again," said McGonagall, "what is your opinion, Severus?"

"He is either naïve enough to believe all of the tripe he puts forward, or he is unsubtly manipulative," stated Severus. "Possibly, he is loyal, and thoroughly believes in the Dark Lord's ignorance; this would mean that his demise is imminent. However, his survival has been continuous, so I believe it is more likely he is a boy in over his head, attempting to play both sides. I believe that he is simply treading water, now, trying to stay afloat. He will use whatever means necessary to succeed in survival, on either side."

"Is there someone he trusts?" inquired Nymphadora Tonks at once, jaunting her upper body forward as she positioned herself toward the Headmaster. Her manner was one of intense interest. "We could find him out rather quickly with a well done inquiry. Though I haven't had much time to judge, myself, it seems from this description that he might be easily discovered."

"Perhaps we ought not take him so lightly," suggested Lupin sagely, who sat next to the energetic Tonks. "He has succeeded in a number of things—I hope that we will not fool ourselves by negating the discernible amount of skill it has taken to both secure a place in Hogwarts and continue to thrive in Voldemort's circle."

"Yes, and it even appears that he has earned our Headmaster's trust," intoned Snape silkily, cutting smoothly through the growing discussion.

"Is it true, Albus?" questioned Molly Weasley, her tone less accusatory than surprised. "Are you convinced of his loyalty?"

Dumbledore's response began in the form of a slow nod. "It is not his loyalty I am convinced of rather than his need. His chances of success increase with each of our victories. And even greater than this, I believe that his role currently keeps Voldemort complacent. As long as Voldemort is allowed to conclude that we are within the realm of his control, he will not act. We need as much time as possible. Harry's seventeenth birthday is approaching, and as such, Voldemort may begin to focus his attention on him more greatly."

"He is a distraction, then," observed Tonks at once, as though guessing at the correct strategy.

"A great deal more than that, Nymphadora," said Dumbledore gently, smiling over at her. "And I hope you will forgive me if I do not elaborate."

"Allow me to make a suggestion." Lupin spoke leadingly. "It seems to me that in our haste to enhance our view into Voldemort's mind, several oversights have been committed. What Severus has indicated about Kinnaird is that he is not a steadfast agent of our cause; I move that those stationed at Hogwarts keep a closer watch on the man who has access to Harry. Perhaps we need to find more reasons to spend time at Hogwarts."

"Aye," said Tonks, nodding emphatically. Across the way, Molly Weasley's head was bobbing along.

"It will be difficult to facilitate," answered McGonagall, glancing at Dumbledore's imperceptible expression.

"We put the measures in place at the beginning of the year, Minerva, to ensure that if we were needed, our presence would be easily accepted."

"Yes, added security is certainly necessary at times such as these," added Molly Weasley.

"But ought we to communicate that we are in a heightened state of awareness?" questioned Severus, drawing the attention of his colleagues. They waited for him to continue. "This brings me to my next point of contention. I move that our best chance at observing Kinnaird is by using those already in place at Hogwarts."

"Such as yourself, Severus?" questioned Lupin drolly. "Are you so perturbed at the thought of my return to the school?"

"Though I appreciate your unnecessary level of attention to my feelings, Lupin, my proposal is based on logic. Allow me to familiarize you with the concept. Headmaster, will you permit me to expound upon what we discussed earlier?"

Severus knew that he was in a slightly precarious position, having only proposed his ideas to Dumbledore this afternoon and now bringing them into the order meeting before having reached an agreement. However, Dumbledore nodded graciously and gestured for the small group of Order members to turn in Severus' direction.

"As the Headmaster mentioned earlier, Harry's seventeenth birthday is approaching. He is completely aware of what this may mean for him. It is causing him to act most unpredictably; it is my contention that the best way to protect him is to arm him with information."

"Professor?" Concern colored the tone of Mrs. Weasley's voice.

"In an attempt to protect Harry, and his determined-to-be-killed young compatriots," Severus began to explain tiredly, aware suddenly of his audience, "I have tried in vain to put an escalating level of constraint on his life. Time and time again, I have disciplined him to no avail. So, I began to contemplate the commonalities in my son's escapades—and it occurred to me that he was not the sole source of the problem. This past weekend, I was fortunate to catch the three in yet another act of secrecy, and after confronting them as a group, I have come to several conclusions. One, we have, to our detriment, overlooked how useful the three of them are."

"Useful in what way, Professor?" McGonagall spoke from several seats away, her tone sharp. She seemed to be saying, _careful, Severus. _

"Despite my best efforts, the three are constantly bursting with information that they are afraid to reveal, but which has important implications," Severus answered her slowly, carefully choosing his words. "It seems that they have eyes and ears everywhere. I have always credited this to a damaging sense of curiosity, but they see Hogwarts through a wider lens than we are able to when confined to our singular classrooms and occupied in our individual efforts. The three of them act as a true unit, and they glean information from events we are unable to observe. The crux of the matter is that they constantly feel they have cause to investigate where their interest has been peaked."

"To clarify, then," Lupin said, his eyes narrowed, unconsciously making hand gestures as he spoke, "You believe that rather than to station more Order members to Hogwarts, thereby signaling that we are in a heightened state of alert, we ought to set the children to the task."

Severus' lips pursed together, and he bit back on a snide remark. "I am saying, I have found myself time and time again asking them to confide in me, because their constant secrecy puts us all at a severe disadvantage. However, it seems that the harsher my reprimand, the more they hide. If we gave them specific tasks to focus on, they might gain the direction they need to keep them from straying too far. They would be held accountable for telling us all that they know; it would by their duty to the Order. I believe it would appeal to their sense of honor."

Far from the indignation Severus had expected from her, Molly Weasley gave a short chuckle, shaking her head, and said, "So, you wish to make them officially accountable to you or another adult at all times. This seems like a mother's dream, Professor."

"But not only that," Tonks interjected. "Sounds to me like you want them inducted into the Order. Is that right?"

Severus nodded his head to the side in acknowledgement. "I believe it might be beneficial to allow them to attend an Order meeting now and again. It will encourage maturation if they are held accountable for their escapades in a professional sense. It will certainly bolster their confidence in the adults they are meant to trust. There is a serious lack of that, right now."

Severus leaned back in his chair and gazed around at the faces in the room with him. He met a few varying degrees of contemplation, there, but perceived only one stance of opposition. Now came the narrowing of the eyes and folding of arms from Molly Weasley's corner. "Albus, I thought we had discussed this _last _year," she said to the Headmaster.

"Severus _does _make a valid point, Molly," said Lupin gently. "They will all soon be of age. Delaying the inevitable by mere months can only put us at a disadvantage, if we are working against a clock set by Voldemort's patience."

"And if one of us moved onto the staff, Molly?" suggested Shacklebolt. "As Remus suggested. If the kids had someone trustworthy whom they could consult."

"I might be more comfortable with that," Molly acquiesced, though not without difficulty.

"I would be willing to volunteer," said Lupin.

"Yes, of course you would, Lupin, but I am certain it is unnecessary," answered Severus stiffly. "I am perfectly capable of watching over my own son, as well as his friends."

"Severus, your contention has been that you wish to cease your meetings with Kinnaird due to your other responsibilities," Dumbledore observed to Severus' chagrin. "Perhaps if Remus were there to assist you in your duties, you could continue to balance his training. Remus, let us discuss the details after the meeting. Now, Severus, if you have finished all that you wished to say, shall we put this to a vote?"

"By all means," Severus agreed evenly. He stared straight ahead, his eyes avoiding those of the others in their room as they demonstrated their support by the raising of their hands.

"It is settled, then. Severus, I trust you will help to facilitate this transition for the children, along with Remus here, when he joins us at Hogwarts."

"Of course, Headmaster," he answered stiffly. Though he should have felt victory in the outcome of the meeting, it had not come without sacrifice. He resented Lupin's involvement, the implication that his guidance was not enough to protect his son. He would have to continue to train Kinnaird; he had failed to gain an audience with the rest of the order, on that point of contention. It was bittersweet.

As the meeting adjourned, Severus was one of the first to exit the room. He couldn't have remained; he was in no mood to pretend he was satisfied with the results of the day, and was certain his irascibility would only be met with bemusement.

"Severus, wait," a voice called down the hallway as Severus neared the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Exhaling, he turned his head over his shoulder. Lupin was walking towards him; they were alone in the hallway, and Severus could not pretend he hadn't heard him. Cursing himself for not having left the building faster, he turned and faced the approaching man.

"What is it, Lupin?" he inquired tiredly. "Come to gloat?"

"Whatever would I gloat about, Severus?" asked Lupin sincerely, frowning. "I only want to help you and Harry, in whatever way that I can." He placed his hand on the back of Severus' shoulder; the Potion Master's dark eyes flew to the offending appendage, but he said nothing.

"Please, can we speak alone for a second?" Lupin asked, gesturing to the door nearest to them. After a moment of deliberation, and mostly out of a desire to get the werewolf to take his hands off him, Severus complied and stepped through the door into the kitchen. The door closed as Lupin followed him in, and Severus moved to the side of the room, resting a hand on the countertop and waiting with an expression of contentious expectancy for him to explain himself.

"I admit that I have not been your greatest supporter in your journey with Harry, Severus," Lupin began. "However, what I see now is a man who has surpassed my expectations in taking on the role. It would seem you have the boy's best interests at heart."

"Your flattery is unnecessary, Lupin," Severus remarked churlishly. "Is this what you wished to discuss?"

"No," said Lupin, sighing. "I wanted to discuss my return to Hogwarts with you."

"Are you asking for my permission?"

"Certainly not. Severus, perhaps you should sit."

"Standing is fine with me. I am certain this will not take long."

But Lupin was already pulling out a chair at the table. Severus ignored his attempt at graciousness and waited as he seated himself. Lupin rested his elbows on his knees, knotted his hands, and rested his chin atop them. "I agree with you about Kinnaird, Severus."

Severus' expression betrayed none of his surprise, and he responded simply, "I see."

"Dumbledore will not give him up, however, you must realize."

"Must I?" asked Severus. "I had not gained that sense, from this meeting."

"I could help you," suggested Lupin. "I thought, if I were stationed at Hogwarts, I could do ask Tonks suggested; I could watch Kinnaird by getting closer to him."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

"Well, I have not discussed my position with the Headmaster, but whatever purpose I am given for my stay at the castle, I will not be teaching. I will not be confined to a classroom, as you are. Furthermore, Kinnaird has not found the mentor in you that he apparently aimed to. He has few allies whom he can confide in. My theory is that I will be well received if I present myself as a friend."

"And then—"

"I will be making the rounds with him. I will be watching him. And I will bring my memories back to you; your perception is sharp, Severus, perhaps keener than the Headmaster's, at this point. He can't stand to be blind, and he lost his eyes when you left the Dark Lord's service. He keeps Kinnaird around to maintain some semblance of control—but I believe that is a mistake. You and I have disagreed on many things, but on this subject, I defer to you."

Ah, and how sweet his deference seemed to Severus after the Headmaster had so neatly refused his requests to regain ownership of his time wasted on a man he had little regard for.

"If you could observe Kinnaird's actions, his speech, while he was interacting with me, rather than you or the Headmaster, both of whom he fears and wishes to impress…"

Severus turned fully toward Lupin and leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest. "What do you see as an end to our joint efforts?"

"For once, Severus, I see eye to eye with you. I can only hope that my assistance will help the Headmaster to do the same."

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: I have had a very busy month since we last met, and I hope that the work I put into this chapter is apparent. Please be kind, and review. Knowing that you are out there reading really lifts my spirits. That's everything to me at this busy time of year!


	52. Sworn

Chapter 52

Sworn

xxx

"Or perhaps," Hermione exclaimed, while taking pains to keep her voice hushed as they walked down the echoing corridor, "he wanted to congratulate the Gryffindor team for the recent victory—"

"Hermione, you're not even _on _the Quidditch team."

"I _know_, okay Ronald?"

"Then why'd you say it?" retorted Ron. "You know that's not the reason Dumbledore called us down. It's because Snape ratted on us—"

"That doesn't even make any sense," Hermione bit back, her voice reaching higher octaves with each word. "Why would the Professor go through all the trouble of talking to us, just to turn around and tell the Headmaster we've been sneaking off the grounds…" She paused, chewing on her lip and frowning. Desperately, she sighed, "Oh, Harry what do you think?"

Harry glanced back as Hermione tugged at loose fabric of his jumper. He could see her contemplating another possible excuse for the vague missive they had received from Dumbledore that afternoon. He couldn't deny that even he felt the beginnings of worry in his gut, but nevertheless, he said evenly, "Just calm down, Hermione. I am sure it will be nothing worse than the usual reasons we are called down to anyone's office."

"No offense, mate, but most of those times have actually been pretty bad."

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry and Hermione snapped in unison. The redhead fell quiet, glaring at his shoes as he stomped down the hallway after them.

But when Harry and his friends pushed back that heavy oak door guarding Dumbledore's office, the sight that greeted them made Harry wish that he, like his redheaded friend, had assumed the worst. Dumbledore was seated, austere, at his desk. Severus was standing behind him, gazing out over the grounds. Lupin was in one of the chairs near the fireplace, reading.

When Harry fully opened the door, Dumbledore ceased writing, Severus turned his head over his shoulder, and Lupin set down his book and stood. The attention of the room instantly focused on them; Harry leaned back almost as if in response to the brunt of it. On cue, Hermione reached out and nudged him forward.

"I need to shut the door, Harry," she whispered harshly, and he and Ron stepped into the office.

"Headmaster, you wanted to see us?" Harry queried nervously as the door swung shut.

"We did, Harry, yes," said Dumbledore, a wry smile brightening his features. He beckoned. "Please, come in."

Now Severus was fully facing them, but he did not speak. Harry locked eyes with him momentarily, but as soon as it looked as though his Father might have something to say, Lupin was there grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him into a brief embrace.

"Harry, it has been too long," he said warmly.

Harry nodded and reminded himself to smile; he was glad to see Lupin, and it looked as though the man had need of the kindness. He appeared worn, aged in a way that Harry had not recognized in some time.

"Remus, what are you doing here?"

"Well, I suppose that's a bit of what we wanted to talk to you about," said Lupin. "Please, sit down."

When they had found their seats in front of Dumbledore's desk, Lupin came around to stand at his shoulder opposite of Severus. They painted quite the intimidating picture, thought Harry, as three sets of eyes came to rest on him.

"Perhaps you three are already aware," Dumbledore posed, "that yesterday we held our first Order meeting in several months?"

"No, I was not aware," Harry said steadily; he avoided his Father's eyes.

"Ah, well, slipped through the cracks, I am sure. It so happens that you were a very important topic on our agenda, you should be pleased to know."

Harry did not see how this fact could be at all pleasing, so he remained quiet while he waited for Dumbledore to explain.

It was not Dumbledore that spoke next, however, but Severus. "What the Headmaster is trying to explain in an unnecessarily suspenseful way," he paused to glance disdainfully at the older man seated in front of him, "is that yesterday, we came to the agreement that you shall all be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix a bit ahead of schedule. Being close to the age of majority, you should be sufficiently prepared to shoulder the responsibilities that accompany this honor, with the understanding that you will adhere to certain limits."

Whatever occurred over the next few moments, Harry was unaware of. He had heard his Father, but he couldn't react. He was waiting for the qualifier, but it seemed it had already been delivered. "What limits?" he couldn't help but ask. It might have been a different response than expected, but it didn't occur to him to care.

"There are some rules," Severus told them pointedly. "This is not a license to rush headfirst into battle. You are expected to govern your actions judiciously. Your protection must not usurp our resources. In all instances requiring action, you will be expected to report back to us in a timely manner, and in an appropriate way. If you are to accept, you must realize that one of the Order's greatest functions has been to ensure your protection. You are not to jeopardize that."

"The Order does function primarily to coordinate our plan of attack against Voldemort and his followers," Dumbledore explained more gently. "We are certain you have discernible skills that will help us to this effect."

"What sort of skills?" asked Hermione tentatively.

"Why, I should think that would be obvious, Miss Granger! Despite our best efforts, you three have, since entering the school, acted autonomously to solve whatever mysteries or challenges you have encountered." Dumbledore spoke with a hint of amusement. "And you have done a fair job, I might admit."

Severus' lips pursed as he glared sideways at Dumbledore.

"It is important that we are able to collaborate, in the coming months. We are certain never to act alone," Lupin specified, "as action is often discussed, delegated, and carefully coordinated to minimize risks and consequential damage."

"That is where this scenario presents mutual benefits. Professor Snape astutely observed that you three always seem to be possessed of information taken from just the sources we are most unlikely to witness," said Dumbledore, "as well as the fact that you have expressed a desire to become more involved and knowledgeable on Order matters."

"This was _your _idea?" Harry blurted automatically in a low voice of disbelief.

Grudgingly, Severus nodded once.

"…Which is why I will be returning to Hogwarts, with the sole purpose of providing my assistance here in whatever way I am needed—including acting as a confidant for you three," Lupin was saying with a small smile. "Although, my official job title will be Assistant to our resident Potions Master, here," he finished, the smile growing as he gestured towards Severus. "For the remainder of the school year."

"He is rather busy, you see," Dumbledore added helpfully.

Snape's hand twitched at his side, but he remained otherwise still. His eyes, Harry noticed, were unusually bright.

"Not to mention," said Lupin, "that to see Severus' vote of confidence in me will reinforce the trust of the parents who previously had a problem with my condition. Right, Severus?"

"Yes," said Severus tightly. "And _not to mention _that it will allow him to brew his _own _bloody Wolfsbane Potion, so that he does not in fact take up more of my precious _time_."

"Well," said Harry in a breath, drawing their attention. He could feel the tension rising between them. "That all seems like a very good idea…you two, working together."

"Again," muttered Ron.

"Ah, but in closer quarters," said Snape with a stiff smirk and narrowed eyes. "So you can see the _benefits_ I am reaping from this _grand _idea."

Harry was not sure, but he thought Ron's shaking shoulders might be from repressed laughter. He hoped his Father hadn't seen.

Safe. His Father was too busy glaring at the back of Dumbledore's head to notice Ron's gloating.

"So, what happens now?" asked Harry.

"We will be holding our next meeting two weeks from today, at which you will formally accept your positions," said Dumbledore, adjusting his spectacles and peering over them expectantly. "Do you, in fact, accept?"

"Yes!" Hermione replied emphatically, while Ron nodded next to her. Harry was watching his Father's passive expression intently, and affirmed quietly. He was uncertain why, if this had been his Father's idea, the man was behaving so dourly. He wanted to be happy about these developments, but there was a sense of foreboding in his father's demeanor that made him think he might need to read more closely between the lines before celebrating.

Dumbledore was shuffling the papers on his desk. "I'll have you read these in full before the meeting," he said, giving them to Lupin to pass over. "You will sign with a witness and swear an oath before you are officiated.

"Understand what you are entering into," Severus said in a low voice. "Your word is binding. Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, bear in mind that though you have taken on Harry's burdens as your own, and that is noble, your oath binds you to this path. You must be certain you understand your responsibilities."

"We understand, Professor," Hermione said softly.

"Yes, sir," Ron said with a sobered nod.

"And Harry?" questioned Severus. "You are ready to enter into the Order of the Phoenix?"

Harry maintained firm eye contact. He was ready. He had been preparing for this ever since he had stepped foot in Hogwarts. To take control of his own fate, to finally have an effect rather than to be affected by the decisions of those around him. Confidently, and with just a hint of a smile, he stared straight back at his Father and replied.

"You know that you don't even have to ask."

xxx

The last thing he wanted was to leave, Harry reflected as he exited the Library. He had left his friends crouching over a table in the very back of the library, excitedly discussing the events of the day. He tried to ignore the overwhelming temptation to stay, to ignore all the implications of Severus' behavior this afternoon. But Harry knew that he wouldn't be able to enjoy his time with them until he had resolved whatever had remained unsaid between him and his Father.

Upon finding both the Potions Classroom and his Father's office empty, Harry found his way to the door of Severus' quarters. He rapped his knuckles against the wooden door, but received no answer. Huffing, he shifted his stance and leaned closer to the door, listening for the sound of nearing footsteps. Impatiently, he knocked again.

Almost immediately, the door swung open this time, though no one was standing behind it. He heard his Father's grumbling and stuck his head through the door. Across the room were Severus and Lupin, with the latter seated, and his Father standing with his wand in the hand at his side.

"Oh, Harry," said Severus, looking faintly surprised.

"Who did you think I was?" Harry asked with a half smile. The man looked disgruntled. He imagined it had something to do with his current company.

"Dumbledore, of course," Severus muttered with a roll of his eyes. "Come in."

Harry did as he was asked and stepped inside the room. Lupin was standing now. "I will leave you two," he said to Severus, who nodded curtly.

"I can come back—"

"It's no trouble, really, Harry," Lupin insisted. "We were just finishing. Good night, Severus." As he crossed the room, he gave Harry a smile that was not exactly forced, but which didn't seem to meet his eyes. Harry returned the smile and bid him goodbye, waiting until the door was closed safely behind him to turn back to Severus.

"What was that about?" Harry asked abruptly. He was fairly certain that his Father vehemently hated Lupin, and now they were having casual conversation over tea in his private quarters?

Severus sighed. "I am glad you're here, Harry. Sit down."

Severus cleared away place in front of where Lupin had previously been seated, and placed a fresh cup of steaming tea there for Harry. Shivering from the cold, Harry gladly drank from the cup as he waited for his Father to begin speaking.

Severus sat across from Harry in the high backed armchair, his elbows resting on the sides and his fingertips barely touching as they met across his lap. "How do you feel about your meeting with the Headmaster, today?" he asked at last.

"You mean my meeting with you, Remus, and the Headmaster?"

A snort of derision. "Oh, that was certainly not my meeting, Harry. I was merely a bystander."

"Oh," Harry said to save himself from having to immediately respond, swallowing hard. So then it had been as he suspected; his Father did not want him to join the Order. Unexpectedly, he felt his stomach dip in disappointment. "You know how long I have been waiting for this. I know you don't think I'm ready—"

Severus frowned and shook his head, silencing him. "Harry, I did not intend to imply that I disapprove. It _was _my idea that you three join the Order."

"Then why—"

"Surely, you understand that my displeasure is not with you, but with the Headmaster," Severus intoned, tilting his head to catch Harry's downward cast eyes.

"It is?" As soon as the words left his mouth, and he saw the quirk of Severus' lips, he felt silly for having said it. "I mean—why? What has he done this time?"

"This time," Severus scoffed. "Aside from the fact that he has hired Lupin to take on the responsibility of helping _my _son? It was I that secured your place in the Order, so that we might build a better working relationship. Dumbledore, however, would prefer I continue to waste my time on Mr. Kinnaird."

"And so he asked Lupin to step in to watch over us—"

"When that is what I have tried to do all along, yes," Severus forcefully finished his sentence for him. He shook his head. "But no matter. I cannot change the Headmaster's mind; I can only use my considerable skill to circumvent him in any way possible."

"If it will make you feel better, I will talk to you, not Lupin—"

"I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, but that is not the sole issue. And you should go to Lupin, if you feel you can speak to him. I would prefer anything over you running off on your own."

"I hope," Harry said carefully, "that you don't think I would rather talk to Remus than you. If that's what's causing the friction—"

Severus' eyebrows knit together over softened eyes. "I am in no way upset with you, Harry. Nor, in fact, am I upset with Lupin. He is perhaps not my first choice in colleague, but at least he has the sense to recognize Dumbledore's lunacy for what it is. Lupin was here this evening to discuss the terms of his responsibilities as my assistant."

"I thought it was strange that Dumbledore would choose him as your assistant, of all people. Is he trying to punish you for something?"

"Perhaps," Severus admitted. "But it was Lupin that planted the idea in his mind, after we discussed the idea. Let Dumbledore think he is keeping me in line," he said derisively. "The old man doesn't realize he has been outwitted. If I am to be forced to continue training Kinnaird, it is with Lupin's help that we will finally extract something of use from him. While he watches Kinnaird, I will be able to monitor Draco's progress—"

"Wait, I thought we agreed that he wasn't trustworthy," interrupted Harry at once. "Now you want to help him again?"

Severus looked annoyed, but explained anyways, "I have explained to you already that while I do not trust Malfoy, I do think that he is a far better candidate for what we need done than Kinnaird."

"And what about what Hermione said in her letter?" asked Harry. "That Kinnaird and Malfoy were together, just the other night—they seem to avoid each other all the time, and then they are sneaking out of the castle—"

"If you three continue to report to me on these events, leave it to me to uncover their meaning. Draco will be out of the hospital wing soon; I am simply waiting until the opportune moment to question him about these events. For your part, however, there is something I would like you to do until then. I want you to leave Draco alone, but observe him quietly. I would like you to report to me on both his and Kinnaird's behavior."

"You're asking me to spy on them?"

"In a sense, yes. But subtlety is key, Harry. You must remember, neither man credits you with true ability or intelligence. This may not be what you want to hear—" he added at Harry's blanch, "But it is very important to remember. With you playing the role of naïve child and Lupin acting as a trustworthy friend, I am certain we will discover the source of the increasingly odd behavior we have lately begun to witness."

xxx

Severus' first stop of the morning was at the infirmary, with a relatively thick stack of twine bundled papers at his side. He had sympathy for Draco Malfoy, certainly—he was in a position no one could envy—but that did not mean he could be excused for an entire week's worth of homework. The week was already half-way over, and Severus could see where this was heading.

The infirmary was mostly empty this morning, with the exception of Madam Pomfrey, who was humming as she tidied the beds, and Malfoy, who was pretending to sleep in the farthest corner of the room.

"Oh, Severus," said Madam Pomfrey briskly as he stepped into the room. She glanced at the package he held, and nodded toward a stack of papers and books on the nightstand next to Malfoy's bed. "You can set that there, with the rest. Mr. Malfoy is sleeping right now."

"Thank you, Poppy," said Severus, "although I think Mr. Malfoy is quite awake. Isn't that right, Draco?"

Malfoy did not stir and Madam Pomfrey moved as though to escort Severus from the hospital wing. Severus moved past her as though he had not noticed. He stood over Malfoy and observed him quietly. The boy's chest was barely moving as he took shallow, quiet breaths. Severus could see he was trying not to breathe. His eyelids fluttered just slightly, but Severus suspected this was a sign of a struggle to keep them closed.

"Leave us," he commanded Pomfrey, and he was surprised when he heard the door close behind her a moment later. Malfoy remained suspiciously still, and Severus growled, "There are ways of waking a sleeping boy, Mr. Malfoy, if you are so difficult to rouse…"

A yawn, then a stretch, and the dramatically suspenseful prying open of ice blue eyes.

"Oh, Professor," said Draco Malfoy in a naïve, faint tone. Black eyes peered down at him. Malfoy winced, and sat up. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Severus' eyes were all dark between the lids, barely slits as he evaluated Malfoy's appearance. The boy actually looked well rested for the first time in weeks. His skin was not tinged with purple and green as he had become accustomed to, but rather he looked bright and ready to greet the day.

"Why aren't you back in class yet?" Severus queried at once.

"Professor, I am hardly in any condition to return."

"Then I have only one request," said Severus, dropping the papers onto the boy's lap. "Finish these in a timely manner." Malfoy simply stared at him; there was no wince, now. Without warning, Severus reached forward and stripped the covers from the bed. Underneath, Malfoy was completely dressed, and wholly uninjured.

"Once again, _why are you not in class_?"

Draco's expression turned to somewhat of a dignified pout, and he crossed his arms. "Professor, I don't think it is lost on you the difficulties I am going through right now. Don't you suppose it's to your advantage that I maintain my mental health?"

"Your mental health," Severus scoffed, "would be better maintained in the classroom, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy laughed bitterly, shook his head, and folded his arms. His gaze moved back to the window. "I am just taking a short break from reality, that's all."

"Not to be confused with shrinking from the circumstances," Severus added sternly. "It would be a mistake to resign yourself to the worst outcome, Draco. Concentrating on your classes will give you normality to cling to, and a goal to work towards. If you stop caring about your future, you will lose your chance for one."

"Well, whatever you say, Professor," said Draco, pulling the covers back up over himself and turning to face the wall, "I am still excused from classes until next week."

Severus' nostrils flared as he exhaled forcefully, but he felt somehow powerless. "Don't be dramatic, Malfoy, sit back up," Severus said wearily as he sank back to sit on the next bed. He waited while Malfoy reluctantly turned over and pushed himself into a sitting position, looking the part of a petulant first-year.

Severus ignored his pouting, which was becoming exceedingly aggravating to him now. "I am not delusional enough to believe this year has been easy on your, Mr. Malfoy." Severus glanced over his shoulder to see that the door to the infirmary was still closed and that the room was still empty. "That does not, however, excuse you from taking responsibility for your own actions. I won't have you hiding in the infirmary—"

"I am not _hiding_," Malfoy hissed suddenly, his expression instantly going cold. "And if I was, what does it matter? Taking responsibility? I've got more responsibility than anyone in this castle—"

"Quite the presumption, Mr. Malfoy," Severus stated idly, watching him with steady eyes. "You have potential, I think, to take on responsibility, but so far… I am not certain your actions fall into that category."

"I didn't choose this," Malfoy said darkly, his chest heaving now; Severus' accusations were driving him to anger. "You can't think I chose this."

"We all make decisions every day," Severus said softly. "Perhaps not on our circumstances, but on what we do with them. I hope that you will learn that sooner rather than later."

Malfoy folded his arms and didn't respond; Severus waited. He was uncertain how to help the boy in front of him; he felt an odd sense of responsibility for his welfare, now. The boy's Father had seemingly offered him up as a prize to the Dark Lord, and Draco seemed all too aware of the pressure coming from those who supported Harry, as well. At times, when his age showed through the cracks of his hardened expression, Severus was reminded of how dearly he needed someone to speak for his best interests. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sentiment.

Not speaking, Malfoy continued to stare at his lap. With each passing moment, Severus' tolerance was slowly evaporating. As the last remnant of his patience escaped into the abyss, he gave a deep, pained sigh and rose to his feet. "I think that the time has come, Mr. Malfoy," he said with an air of finality, "for you to begin making some difficult decisions. I am more than willing to help you, Draco, but only under certain conditions."

This seemed to gain Malfoy's interest, although he maintained an affected look of dispassion. "What conditions?"

"You do not appear well enough to discuss this at the moment," Severus replied after a moment of deliberation, glancing pointedly at the hospital bed upon which the boy sat. "We will need to reconvene when you feel well enough to return to class."

By the time Severus had finished speaking, he had already taken several steps toward the door.

"Professor—" Malfoy said quickly, but stopped himself from pleading with Severus' back.

Half turned and staring dubiously over his shoulder, Severus responded with a slow, "Yes?"

"I am well enough to speak with you now."

"If you are not well enough to return to classes, Mr. Malfoy, I shall have to disagree."

And Severus crossed the room in long strides, his gaze focused firmly on the door ahead. He did not glance back at the silent boy as he exited the infirmary. Not surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey was waiting dutifully outside the doors.

"I assume you have finished?" she asked, moving as though to go back inside.

"Quite the contrary," said Severus evenly. "You have excused the boy from his classes what grounds, Madam Pomfrey?"

Both taken aback and gravely affronted, Madam Pomfrey addressed Severus stiffly. "I hardly see how Mr. Malfoy's personal afflictions are the business of the Potions Master," she sniffed, "but I have already conferred with the Headmaster on this point. The boy is here under his orders."

Severus did not intend to betray his surprise at this, but suspected he had done so as he sharply turned his gaze on her. In an instant, his expression was again flat, and his voice cold. "_I _am the boy's Head of House, Madam, and I will thank you to remember that. And in that vein, I must inquire as to _why _the Headmaster gave such orders?"

"I meant no offence, Professor," Madam Pomfrey responded with a chill to her tone, but proper deference in her expression. "The Headmaster gave no reason. When the boy turned up here yet again—and the severity of his ailments has been decreasing with each visit, mind you—I did inform the Headmaster that Mr. Malfoy was more than capable of attending classes this week. He told me not to discharge the boy until he seemed ready."

"I see," Severus said distantly, staring back at the tall oak doors as if he could see the boy behind them.

"Well, perhaps you can talk to Professor Dumbledore," said Pomfrey begrudgingly; Severus guessed she disliked enlisting his help. "It's not healthy for the boy to stay here by himself, brooding."

"No, it is not," Severus agreed quietly. "I am fairly certain, however, that the Headmaster will treat my advice as dispensable as yours."

Pomfrey neither agreed nor disagreed with his statement, but rather replied, "The disadvantage of having lived for so long is that no advice seems quite as reliable as what we have learned from our experiences. Perhaps we should not forget why Headmaster Dumbledore feels he knows best." Her eyes briefly scanned Severus' expression curiously, but it was little more than a passing glance as she finally moved past him and slipped through the doors back into the infirmary. In her wake, Severus was left staring after where she had disappeared with narrowed eyes. Unwilling to sacrifice his dignity by chasing the last word, he settled for departing in silence. It was better to discredit her opinion by ignoring it than to certify it with his indignation.

Severus didn't get far. He heard the heavy door reopen and stopped where he stood, turning just slightly in acknowledgement of Pomfrey's return. The sight in his peripheral vision, however, was not that of the aging school nurse. With an expression of mild interest, he turned fully to face Malfoy, who was standing in front of the door looking solemn, shoulders hunched in defeat. Madam Pomfrey stood a ways behind him in the infirmary, watching with a pleased expression.

"Feeling better, are we?" inquired Severus slowly, making little effort to withhold his smirk.

Malfoy sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes. "Can we talk?" he asked, as though it pained him. "In your office?" he added, jerking his head toward Madam Pomfrey.

"That is for Madam Pomfrey to decide," replied Severus evenly. "You realize that by leaving the infirmary, you have agreed to return to classes."

"Fine," Malfoy muttered.

"Try again," commanded Severus.

"Yes, sir," said Malfoy, not without a hint of sarcasm. Severus nodded in the direction of Madam Pomfrey, and Malfoy turned to address her. "May I be excused?"

Madam Pomfrey nodded, and to Severus' observation, seemed grateful for the consideration. "Do try not to return to me too soon, Mr. Malfoy," she advised gently.

Malfoy's manner was aloof as they departed from the hospital wing, but Severus did not leave him to his acrimony for long. "I hope you realize my intentions, Draco."

"I'm sorry, sir?" Malfoy's expression was one of instant bemusement, as though he might not have heard correctly.

"I would genuinely like to help you," Severus clarified. "You are correct; perhaps you have been given to the idea that you could not have prevented the unfortunate circumstances you now find yourself in. I regret that you felt you could not come to me at a time when I might have helped you."

Malfoy glanced at him dubiously. "You? Professor, as far as I knew, you were one of the Dark Lord's most loyal agents. If I were that stupid, I'd already be dead."

Severus gave a faint murmur of amusement and inclined his head in consent. "The Headmaster, then. I do not question your lack of agency so much as I question whether we have failed you in some ways."

"Some ways," Malfoy remarked with derision. "It's never been a mystery the path my Father has set for me. And I won't deny that I welcomed the responsibility…but I don't think I realized what was coming. There's no one who can get me out, now. I thought, perhaps, if I could prove my loyalty…but I've only ever been discounted by the Headmaster."

"It has been my experience that when it is difficult to make the right choice, it becomes easier to say that we have none," Severus said softly.

"I don't think you know—"

"Don't I?" Severus asked, stopping to stare down at Malfoy. His eyes rested on him at length, his frown deepening as he observed the look of unrelenting opposition on his face. It was as though nothing he could say would move him to think anything different than what he already believed he knew—that he was doomed to an unchangeable fate, that he had experience beyond the adults around him, that made him impervious to any wisdom he was given. His gaze intensifying, Severus took a step towards Malfoy. "There are many things you will never understand about how I came to stand where I am now, Draco. What my life has been is nothing I ever wish to discuss, but it has been a product of ill-made choices. What I do wish to share with you is what I have learned from my difficulties. I believe you are smart enough to realize the value of the wisdom I may impart to you. If you believe yourself above it, I would ask you to inform me now, before I waste any more of my time on you."

Malfoy tilted his head down and his eyes shifted side to side, as though wrestling with his response. "I do want your help, Professor," Malfoy said, and Severus felt he was being sincere. "I am just frustrated with the circumstances."

"I understand that, but the circumstances you lament are no longer within your ability to change. The sooner you acknowledge that, the better. Your greatest option, now, is to make the best of the opportunities you have. We are willing to _help _you, Draco. That is a far greater advantage than you seem willing to acknowledge."

Malfoy snorted. "Who is 'we'?"

"Myself, and potentially the Headmaster," said Severus, beginning to walk forward again. "He may be difficult to deal with, but the man will never deny help to someone he trusts."

"Someone he considers valuable, you mean."

Severus sighed, but did not respond. It was difficult for him to defend the headmaster. He had always considered him to be a great man—had he held some resentment for him at times? Certainly. But he couldn't deny that he had done great things, and was a benevolent and intelligent man. Despite his flaws, he knew that the man would be willing to help Draco if only the boy would help him to prove his worth.

"I believe value is the wrong word, Draco. It is rather your loyalty that he is concerned with."

"But haven't I already shown myself to be loyal?" Draco exclaimed. "What more can I do? If not for me, Potter—Harry," he said, at Severus' raised brow, "would never have made it to Hogwarts for his sixth year. I have given you everything you've asked for! I have risked myself to help defeat the Dark Lord—I don't see how there can be any room to doubt my loyalty."

Having reached his office, Severus did not wait for Draco's response. He paused to dismantle the wards on his door, and then pushed it open, entering the dark room. Malfoy followed quickly behind him and closed the door, waiting while Severus lit the candles around his office and leaned against his desk, waiting for Malfoy to join him there.

When Malfoy had finally taken his place in the seat nearest to Severus, the older man paused to consider his next words. He didn't want to be overly harsh in what seemed to be a delicate moment; yet he could not allow the boy the sympathy he was obviously seeking.

"The fact remains, Draco, you have only ever sought to prove yourself through vague means; the Headmaster has never witnessed your efforts firsthand, and even Harry, while seeking a vesicle for your redemption, you have treated as a mere means—your act is not very convincing, Draco. I do not wish to discourage you from doing good, but rather encourage you to sacrifice your pride in these matters. Your loyalty, even to me, remains ambiguous."

It was only at the look of shocked anger on Malfoy's face that Severus wondered if he had been too honest with him. A moment later, however, the look was replaced with a certain hardness that Severus had come to recognize as resolve. "What can I do, then?" Malfoy asked steadily.

Mild relief gave way to a subtle smile of approval for Malfoy's determination, and Severus said slowly, "There is the issue of Kinnaird."

Malfoy looked suddenly concerned. "What about him?"

"The Headmaster seems primarily concerned with the advantages that he may offer—but I believe he is mistaken. I am telling you this in confidence, Draco. Perhaps, if you could help me to show Dumbledore—"

"I don't think so," Malfoy quickly interrupted him, shaking his head. Severus stared at him curiously.

"Draco?"

"I haven't much contact with him, I mean," Malfoy amended, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "And the Dark Lord certainly encourages this."

Severus murmured thoughtfully, and asked pointedly, "Draco, I was under the impression that it was Kinnaird who accompanied you from the castle just last week. Is this not true?"

Malfoy appeared to contemplate this for a moment, before nodding slowly. "The Dark Lord sometimes asks him to 'collect me', but he is always quiet. It's only been recently. We don't speak, much."

Severus frowned. "Have you ever questioned why it is that the Dark Lord sends him to collect you, when he is most often already in the castle? If he is to go through the trouble of sending a message to Kinnaird, why not send the message to you?"

"It the most convenient way for me to leave the castle, accompanied by a faculty member, Professor," Malfoy replied; Severus searched his expression for some sign of machination or deceit, but found neither there. "I am, after all, still a student."

"You are certain," said Severus with warning in his tone, "that there is nothing else you might recall as pertinent?"

"Professor, my Father has instructed me to stay away from the man as much as possible. That is all I know. He seems to think that Kinnaird represents a danger to me."

"A danger?" Severus questioned interestedly. "Why?"

"Something about him not being trustworthy—I don't know, Professor. Is this what you meant when you said you would help me under certain conditions? This is your agenda?"

Severus pressed his lips together in speculation, debating how to proceed. He could see that despite his best efforts, he was neither going to convince Draco to prove himself to the Headmaster, nor to disprove Kinnaird. At least, not all at once. For whatever reason, Malfoy seemed to be closing himself off rather than opening up. Perhaps he needed a subtler approach; Malfoy was not so easy to persuade as he had hoped.

"No, Mr. Malfoy, that is not what I meant," Severus conceded. He contemplated Malfoy for a moment. He released the edge of the desk and pushed away from it, coming to stand in front of the young Slytherin. He folded his hands in front of him and stared down the length of his nose at him. The boy looked up at him and swallowed, seemingly sensing the shift in mood. "As I have said, I am willing to assist you, Draco, but I cannot take your loyalty on faith any longer."

"Professor?"

"The conditions I have alluded to involve a spell which will bind you to your word—irrevocably. If you are loyal as you say you are, you will realize the necessity of such an action. You have done well, Draco, but the Dark Lord has ways of making one talk—and if he realizes that I am helping you, he will certainly try. You realize, I cannot allow this to happen."

Realization seemed to set in for Malfoy, and trepidation overwhelmed his features. "Professor, you don't mean the Unbreakable Vow?"

"No, Draco, I would not wish to gamble your life on your ability to withstand the will of your master," Severus said with resignation. "Nor do I wish to gamble my son's. What I require of you, therefore, is the assurance that my help, and your knowledge, will not damn my efforts in this war. There is a spell—one which unlike the unbreakable vow, will not result in your death, but similar to it, will ensure that the moment you act on the intention to betray me, your mind will become something akin to a blank sheet of parchment, your short-term memories erased."

"Well then I'll be as good as dead anyway, won't I?" Malfoy exclaimed, appalled.

"You are so certain you will fail?" Severus asked, eyebrows raised.

"You certainly seem to be," he spat back.

"I am certain it would be better for you to lose memory of the last year of your life than to tell the Dark Lord something vitally important."

Malfoy was shaking his head slowly, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

"Draco, this is not simply a case of trust. You have to understand, this is for your own protection as well. Suppose the Dark Lord learns _why _you injured him, that you crawled back to the castle and reported to _me_—"

"All the more reason for me to keep yours secrets," reasoned Malfoy. "Have I betrayed you yet?"

"No, Draco, but your reluctance to choose a side has me worried."

"So now you will force my compliance." There was resentment in his voice, and defiance in his eyes. Again, Severus found himself faced with a boy he could not reason with. His mind was already set; he felt the world was against him, and Severus imagined he was no exception. He could not blame him—he could admit to himself that even he had been callous toward a boy who, by all appearances, had seemed to be deceiving them. His recent help, however, and recent troubles had him wishing he could correct his carelessness. Admittedly, however, he seemed to be failing.

"No, I dare say that would be counterproductive. In my experience, total compliance cannot be forced." Severus was circling slowly about the room, coming to stand in front of the locked black cabinet in the back. "I had hoped you would recognize the value of what I am offering you, but there is of course an alternative."

"And that is?" Draco remained staring stonily forward. Behind him, the click of a lock sounded, and the he heard the scrape of the pensieve across the stone surface of the counter. His head twitched slightly, but Severus could see that the boy was trying to show as little interest as possible.

"I will be requiring your memories," Severus said, and Malfoy turned now. "For safe keeping, of course."

Malfoy's voice lowered, and he said, dumbfounded, "Excuse me?"

"It is not to say that I don't understand your trepidation at swearing an oath you may not fulfill, but if you cannot, I can't allow you to continue putting us all at risk—yourself included," Severus added as Malfoy opened his mouth to object. The boy's shoulders fell and he looked away, remaining silent for a long time before Severus continued.

"I appreciate what you have done," Severus intoned with a hint of compassion, "and I will not forget it; but it is not safe for you to continue to spy for us, attempting to prove your loyalty. Not if you are not willing to sacrifice your pride."

"My mind, not my pride," Malfoy reminded him, more than daunted by the prospect.

"Your memories will only be erased should you act on the intent to betray them, Mr. Malfoy. Even in such a case, I think you would find yourself glad not to have any memory of your actions over the past year. It could save your life."

Pure refusal seemingly no longer an option, Malfoy took pause to consider the terms laid out for him. He was something like caught animal, loathe to come to his trapper but with no other way out of the cage. Severus waited calmly for him to realize his position. When it had happened, Severus' only clue was the squaring of his shoulders and the calm extraction of his wand.

"Teach me the incantation," Malfoy commanded steadily.

"In due process, Mr. Malfoy," Severus replied, as though he had never expected any other answer. "But first," he said, producing a thin, shining blade from within the green velvet folds of fabric in his hands, "turn over your palm."

Closing his eyes and steeling his expression, Malfoy obeyed. If Severus were to admit it to himself, the boy had never truly had a choice.

xxx

"And what, exactly, does the Headmaster want with me?"

Severus stalked quickly down the dark corridor of the dungeons, his footsteps punishing against the cold hard floor. Next to him, Lupin easily kept pace.

Harry trailed behind the two men at a close enough distance to be indirectly involved in the conversation, but discreet enough not to be scolded back to the common room by his Father. He considered the circumstances in which he had become involved to be extremely lucky, sorry as he felt to admit it.

"You are Kinnaird's mentor, after all," Lupin answered in subdued tones. "I am certain the Headmaster hopes you might have some hint as to his whereabouts."

"Mentor might not be the word I would choose for myself," Severus bit out, but Harry thought he heard a hint of worry there. Harry felt it as well; he had the moment that Lupin had shown up in the common room, searching—almost frantically—for his Father.

"Kinnaird has never gone missing before, Severus, and you must admit it coincides with his attendance to the recent Order meeting in an awfully suggestive way."

"It has only been a few days," Severus ground out tightly. "It most likely means he is finally doing his job." Lupin glanced back at Harry, seemingly seeking assistance, but Harry could only shrug. He could sense his Father's tension, and knew better than to contribute to it.

"It is doubly suspect that Malfoy has spent the week locked in the hospital wing, for no apparent reason," Lupin added probingly. Severus aimed a peripheral glare at him, but said nothing.

The rest of the trip to Dumbledore's office was spent in silence, much to Harry's chagrin. When they arrived outside of the stone gargoyle statue, Severus looked expectantly at his son.

"What?" Harry asked, but Severus only continued to stare at him. After a moment, Harry dutifully said the password to the stature.

"No, Harry, that's not what I meant," Severus said, nodding back toward the corridor behind him.

"I can help!" Harry insisted quickly.

"I'm not so certain of that."

"I want to hear," Harry pleaded. "You said I could have a bigger part in what's going on—how am I to listen for important information around the castle if I don't know what's going on?"

"I don't believe the Headmaster meant for you to come, Harry," Lupin said gently. "I do appreciate your help locating your Father."

"If the Headmaster tells me to leave, you won't hear another sound out of me," Harry promised solemnly.

"I don't have time for this," Severus snapped, turning and stepping onto the staircase. "Suit yourself."

Lupin glanced at Harry and smiled briefly enough for Severus to miss it.

"There you are," Dumbledore said at once, as the three men entered the room. He appeared to have been pacing prior to this, but had stopped now. "Remus, thank you for your help—and, Harry?"

"I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help, Professor," Harry offered, cringing inwardly at the hardness present on the Headmaster's face. "I might be able to learn from Malfoy where Kinnaird has gone—"

"I have actually located him, thankfully, but that is very kind of you, Harry," said Dumbledore with a little less severity in his expression. "There is, in fact. Please go to the hospital wing and ask Madam Pomfrey to be ready to act when I send word. I will need her assistance."

"Certainly, Professor," Harry replied.

"And Remus, if you would be so kind as to go to Grimmauld Place and assist meet Kingsley there, you may help him to go and collect Mr. Kinnaird—"

"So Mr. Kinnaird, is not, in fact, missing?" Severus' dark voice cut through Dumbledore's, and both Harry and Remus ceased their progress towards the door in favor of stopping to stare at the two men in the center of the room.

Ire radiated from Dumbledore's stiff shoulders and trained gaze, but his composure was steady. "No, Severus, although perhaps it would be a better alternative to what he is, which is in very bad shape and in need of assistance to get back to the castle."

"I fail to see how this concerns me," Severus said coldly. "Mr. Malfoy has returned to the castle more than once in what I am certain is equally poor condition. I thought that by now we had satisfied ourselves by dismissing it as part of the routine."

"Harry," came Remus' low whisper as his hand fell on Harry's shoulder. The older man urged him backward, in the direction of the door. Harry wanted to remain frozen, apprehensive over how this scene would unfold. Dumbledore, however, was silent, and seemed all too aware of the reason for his lingering.

Severus stood with his chin tilted upward in defiance, waiting for the sound of the door closing behind him to signal that he and Dumbledore were alone. When Harry and Lupin had gone, the full weight of Dumbledore's anger became entirely apparent in his normally placid demeanor. Still, when he spoke, it was in even, measured tones.

"If you had been doing as I have asked, Severus, you would have realized days ago that Kinnaird's planned outing had gone far too long to be ignored. Do you know _why _the young man's meeting with Voldemort did not go as planned Severus? Do you care?"

Severus barely withheld his sneer. "Enlighten me, Headmaster."

"Imagine if as a young spy, I had simply allowed you to leave an Order meeting and return to Riddle without anything to report," Dumbledore proposed. "Would you have considered me negligent, perhaps, Severus?"

"I would consider myself extremely stupid for not having planned for that ahead of time."

"I think perhaps you would have blamed me," Dumbledore stated, not without a hint of dryness. "Based on precedent."

"You are more than welcome to take the task off my hands," Severus retorted. "I am hardly qualified to give him false information which is meant to come from you. He is your little pet project, after all, and I have not spent the last few days sitting idly by. I have a full schedule of classes to attend to. I have a son to watch almost constantly. And Draco Malfoy, no matter how convenient it may be to let him rot in the hospital wing under Madam Pomfrey's watchful eye, perhaps deserves a little more guidance than that!"

"Why do you use every discussion about Kinnaird as an opportunity to discuss Mr. Malfoy? I am not unsympathetic, Severus, but for everyone's sake we cannot devote all of our resources to such an unreliable boy—"

"He has sworn his loyalty, Albus," Severus interjected with a tone of finality, as though he needed to say very little else. "He committed a blood oath, just last night."

"You did not have the authority—"

"I don't care," Severus said firmly. "I apologize, Headmaster, but I have done what is necessary. I trust you have not forgotten the requirements of the potion which will release Harry from Voldemort's hold on him—the blood and oath of a sworn Death Eater? I found a way to secure both and to protect ourselves from betrayal. It is a greater sign of loyalty than we have ever earned from Branson Kinnaird. If I have overstepped my boundaries, then I will accept whatever action you choose to take next. Otherwise, I would like to be dismissed. I will not take the blame for your boy's failures."

"Well, I hope you are quite satisfied with yourself, Severus," Dumbledore replied after a beat, straightening his robes. "And I certainly hope Mr. Malfoy had nothing to do with Mr. Kinnaird's difficulties this weekend. The evidence certainly seems to suggest that he may have."

Severus wanted to question this supposed evidence, but he felt wary of starting another discussion that he did not feel tolerant enough to finish. He waited for a moment, and then replied, "I will watch him, Headmaster. If there is evidence of such a thing, I will discover it."

"We shall see, Severus," Dumbledore replied tiredly, but even Severus could see that he was losing the will to fight with him, as well. It seemed that they could not agree.

With little more response from the Headmaster, Severus finally saw himself to the door. "For the last time, Dumbledore," he said as his hand rested on the brass handle, "I will warn you not to alienate that boy for the sake of this man. Too much is riding on him to make such a grave mistake."

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: It is 5:30 AM. I stayed up all night to get this to you before my finals begin. I hope you feel the love I'm sending your way, and you send some back to me. Please enjoy, please review : )


	53. Acquittal

Chapter 53

Acquittal

xxx

"Thank you, Madam," Remus Lupin said. A warm smile and he pushed several galleons forward; behind him, Severus stood and tied his heavy woolen cloak across his shoulders. His expression was less genial as he nodded to the witch behind the bar. Together, the two men took their leave.

The evening air was a crisp and sweet cold, moisture from the spring meltdown growing frosty on the windows in the absence of the sun. Severus pulled his cloak closed across his chest and frowned against the contrast to the warmth absorbed from a recently imbibed glass of mead. Next to him, Lupin set the pace for a slow gait.

"I think it best we arrive early," Severus said tersely, lengthening his strides. "I am wary of what awaits us."

He was referring, of course, to the upcoming scheduled meeting with Kinnaird.

"There is little reason to believe Kinnaird would ask us to meet in a muggle town if he were leading an ambush, Severus."

"Well, you clearly haven't the mind for such cunning, then," remarked Severus sardonically, "because I can think of several."

It was only out of a sense of duty that Severus had agreed to meet with Kinnaird outside the confines of Hogwarts. It had been a little over a week since the Headmaster had admonished him for what he had seen as noncompliance, for failing to effectively help Kinnaird to do the job he had been assigned. In Severus' not-so-humble opinion, the Dark Lord was certainly capable of dealing far worse punishments than that which Kinnaird had endured. Moreover, it was by Kinnaird's own failing that he had incurred such wrath in the first place. It was hardly Severus' fault if he could not teach what he was certain could only come naturally.

And yet, Severus had to wonder at his own callousness. A certain amount of hardness had been a necessity over the course of his life, but was it possible that he now lacked another essential character trait: empathy?

Severus sneered as the thought occurred; such philosophic ponderings were surely a waste of contemplation, at best. The point of the matter was that Severus could see the importance of upholding his duty, as a member of the Order, at the very least. Perhaps he had allowed himself to forget some of the principles he had been busy trying to instill in his son. Perhaps, he had been negligent in assisting Kinnaird.

And now, Severus mused, barely aware as an eyebrow rose compulsively, these meetings might become mutually beneficial, what with the werewolf helping him to uncover Kinnaird's true intentions.

At that thought, Severus glanced sideways at his current partner. "Your wards _were _laid correctly? You are certain you would have seen, if they had been triggered." He glanced dubiously again at the discreet ring on Lupin's finger.

"As I said, I tested them yesterday," Lupin responded, patience waning. "From the very same pub where we've been for the past several hours. Have some faith in my abilities, Severus, though I know it pains you to do so. I think it safe to say that no one unexpected awaits us."

Severus huffed in derision and started to walk a little faster. The natural desire to hurry this unpleasant process along was creeping into his consciousness, and he silently decided to refrain from any further goading; the sooner Lupin secured Kinnaird's trust, the sooner Severus could excuse himself from this unpleasant duty. Today would be one mere step out of many in this direction.

Lupin appeared to have a wiser sense about him than Severus would ever have cared to admit, especially in his younger days; even so, it was not beyond him to recognize the potential that his peer had as a colleague. It was not past Severus' comprehension that his old grudges were being forcibly pushed aside over time, however incomprehensible such progress was. That being said, while Severus would not have said it aloud to Lupin himself, he was pleased with how well the other man had planned the day's undertaking.

Somewhat contrary to Severus' unspoken expectations, their entrance into the muggle town was not one greeted by bells and whistles, nor was there anyone about to observe their arrival. A nearby railroad track sent low rumbles through the otherwise still atmosphere. A few windows were lit behind closed curtains. The road was mostly unpaved, and the land around them seemed mostly agricultural. At the end of the street was a somewhat decrepit building, and it was to that one that Lupin nodded.

"There," he said, shuddering at the sound of a rumble that had nothing to do with the passing train. He glanced up, and a few drops of cold rain began to fall. "Let's get inside."

They moved quickly and silently to the overhang outside the inn's entrance, and at Severus' nod, Lupin entered first into the building. Inside, several patrons were seated around the rail of the bar, and a young man stood leaning toward them from behind it, exchanging quiet words. At the sound of the door opening, he glanced up, and straightened.

"Good evening, gentlemen," said the muggle far more graciously than Severus had expected. "What can I do for you?" He glanced queerly at them in their thick cloaks- Severus's with its hood still up, framing his face sinisterly- but he asked no questions.

"Tell Mr. Hew that his guests have arrived, please," said Lupin, his manner businesslike. He folded his hands in front of him and gave a smile of acknowledgement to the white-haired man at the bar, who hadn't stopped staring at them since their entry.

"Ah, Mr. Hew," said the younger man, almost genially, as though he was reminded of an old friend. "Of course."

Shortly, Kinnaird arrived at the bottom of the staircase at the other side of the room. He caught sight of Severus and Lupin quickly, and thanked the bartender curtly before beckoning them to follow.

"You stay here often?" Severus inquired as soon as they were out of hearing range, following Kinnaird down the narrow corridor at the top of the stairs.

"I like this inn," Kinnaird commented mildly. "Friendly service, few questions."

"I find that hard to believe, in such a quiet town," Severus remarked, not without a hint of suspicion. He hoped the muggle's memory wasn't being abused, or that Kinnaird was not foolishly exposing the town to danger.

"They're thankful for the business," Kinnaird responded dismissively. "And it's not a fifteen minute walk to the nearest Wizarding town, a fine place to Apparate from. I'm a quiet guest," he assured them. Shortly, he was ushering them into a dimly lit but cozy room.

"Remus, I must admit, I was surprised at your visit the other day," Kinnaird said once he had closed the door behind them. "When I sent word to Snape requesting a meeting, I did wonder at your sudden arrival. Is Remus receiving all of your post, these days, Professor?"

There was derision in his tone, but Severus displayed nothing of having been affected by it. Instead, he offered a tight smile as he slowly lowered his hood from his face. "I apologize for my need to delegate, Kinnaird; I had not realized you required my personal touch in a response. Now, to get to the point, what is it that you summoned us here for?"

"He's a feeling a tad irascible, Branson," Lupin quipped with a touch of amusement. "Imagine the trouble you might have gone through if we had not stopped off for a glass of mead. If it will make you more pleasant, I'd be happy to treat you to another round of spirits, Professor."

Severus' only response was to growl, but at Lupin's wink, he could see what he was playing at. Admittedly, Lupin might have greater success with Kinnaird this way. Decidedly, Severus allowed the comment to pass, and took a seat.

"Now, for the reason I requested you."

"I should hope the reason," Severus said through gritted teeth, "is that you have something to report on the Dark Lord's next planned activities."

"I do," Kinnaird said; there was something in his expression that indicated his enjoyment at this meeting having occurred on his terms. "But of course, I have already discussed this with the Headmaster. I am surprised he has not spoken to you yet. Nevertheless, what I am concerned with is rather the behavior of Lucius Malfoy, as of late. You know that Voldemort has not permitted my return to Hogwarts until next week, but I thought that you might be instructed to keep an eye on the junior Malfoy."

Severus' eyes drew close together, and his voice was low and deep as he spoke. "Draco? I had thought the Dark Lord had taken pains to ensure you two had little interaction."

"Oh, he has," Kinnaird responded vaguely. "But it is not my interactions with him that have me doubting his loyalty. It is rather the senior Malfoy."

He paused, frowned. Severus nodded. "Go on."

"Lucius has alluded to several events that have occurred within the castle, as of late, to the Dark Lord. I am not certain whether Lucius has intended to goad me with this information, or not, but it is blatantly obvious that he has insider knowledge of what has been going on behind the castle doors—including your frequent trips to and from the castle."

Kinnaird was addressing Severus now, and for once, he appeared incredibly sincere. Severus' eyes narrowed and he evaluated the younger man thoroughly, while Lupin responded.

"What does he allude to, Branson?"

"It is not what _he _says. It is what the Dark Lord says to _him_."

"Elaborate," Severus commanded.

A roll of the eyes: annoyance.

"The Dark Lord intimated to us that Harry's recent gains in strength are a cause for concern—for action, even, although he did not say what kind. Malfoy's response, specifically, was that he had reason to believe that Harry has become stronger within recent months. He said that Draco had an encounter with him that proved it, and that he would be willing to supply the memory."

"The only person Harry has done any duels with has been _you_," said Severus. "So are you certain that you have the correct facts?"

"You are more than welcome to examine my memories, Professor," Kinnaird offered at once, a hint of daring in his voice.

"I don't think that Severus intends to express serious doubt, rather than to seek assurance," Lupin said at once; his voice had a calming effect. Kinnaird turned towards Lupin, but Severus' gaze did not move from the young man.

Now Lupin took over speaking, glancing sharply at Severus as soon as the man looked as though he might interrupt. "What else has he said?"

"He has mentioned your comings and goings from the castle. The Dark Lord has asked him to determine where you and your son are travelling to. I thought that this would be of interest to you, Professor."

Despite Lupin's best efforts, Kinnaird's attention had returned to Severus. Try as he might, Severus could not resist the intrigue that was plaguing him now; he needed to know more.

"I wonder if you might permit me to explore your mind, Mr. Kinnaird."

"As you have had ample opportunities to do so during our Occlumency sessions together, I can't imagine why I would protest," Kinnaird responded.

There was little warning; Severus had risen to his feet. He descended upon Kinnaird immediately, his own searching mind invading Kinnaird's consciousness; little resistance met him there. Images flickered through Severus' vision, as though viewing a series of portraits in rapid succession; he saw the faces he expected: Dumbledore's, his own, Voldemort's, Harry's, and then at last, Malfoy's. He pressed at that memory, and images formed in his field of vision as though splayed across a canvas.

_From the position of bended knee and his eyes cast downward, Lucius spoke quietly. "I have reason to believe he thinks the boy will soon be strong enough to defeat you—"_

"_Foolish, as always," Voldemort hissed spitefully; his back was turned to Lucius, dim light showing through the narrow window that he stood facing. _

"_Potter has been spending much time with his new Father, if you can really refer to him as such, after so little time—yes, yes, his little friend, Granger, constantly tagging along too— No, Snape is gone whenever the boy is, and more than that— He is getting stronger, my Lord, it has been confirmed…"_

"_Yes," Voldemort murmured, shifting to an area beyond Severus' limited visual scope, "He must have something for which he leaves the castle… I am certain the answer lies in young Potter's 'training'… Branson, you have spent extensive time with the two—"_

_Red eyes took on a life of their own as Voldemort returned to Kinnaird's line of vision, and Severus was reminded of his own years of service as he heard the deceit in Kinnaird's voice. _

"_Dark Arts cannot be taught on Hogwarts grounds, Master, without the approval of the Headmaster… I am certain that Snape has been unwilling to play by those rules, if Potter's recent advancement in dueling has been any indication." _

"_The Dark Arts… yes, Severus would believe that the best route to Potter's success… but we must be certain. Observe the nature of his magic, Branson, and come to me with your mind open on the day of our next meeting. I hope you will not arrive with anything _disappointing _to show me." _

_No response issued from either Kinnaird or Malfoy, and the Dark Lord was silent for what seemed like a long moment; a pressure built against Severus' mind, as though Kinnaird was attempting to end the memory, but Severus pressed on. At last, Voldemort spoke to dismiss them, but as Kinnaird's memory came to a natural conclusion, Severus' last view was of Malfoy lingering behind. _

Whatever was said after that point, Severus knew only one thing; there was something Lucius was speaking to Voldemort about that he would not say in front of Kinnaird, and he felt it insistent enough to ignore a dismissal from even the Dark Lord…

Severus retreated from Kinnaird's mind, his energies spent. He had seen that Kinnaird was not lying; Voldemort did indeed press for information that suggested a certain knowledge of what had been going on at Hogwarts… and the fact that Kinnaird had volunteered the information was possibly proof enough that he had not been the source of these revelations. And yet, this had Severus' mind reeling… what he had seen of Draco lately was genuine, he was certain. Was it possible that the boy had given them up without knowing he had done so?

"So," Severus breathed, aware that Kinnaird was still gasping from the encounter. "The question remains, what have _you _told the Dark Lord about your duels with Harry?"

"What you have asked me to," Kinnaird ground out from behind clenched teeth. "No more, no less."

Severus' eyes went to Lupin's, who looked as though he was uncertain what to make of this as well.

"I am not certain what you have seen, Severus, but I think it safe to say that your next question should be for Malfoy. Am I wrong?"

"You're not," Severus found himself admitting in spite of his persisting desire to interrogate Kinnaird. "But I think you underestimate the difficulty of asking such a question with subtlety. Even more so, I wonder if my efforts might be better spent on Lucius."

"That might be rather difficult for you, Severus. Perhaps this might be an opportunity for Mr. Kinnaird to prove his worth…"

Severus glanced sharply in Lupin's direction; next to him, Kinnaird appeared dismayed. Severus' expression was hard and unforgiving; Lupin's suggestion felt somehow like a layered reminder of his relative uselessness in the field. Like an Auror whose nerves are shot from one too many harried days, he had been resigned to the desk. His wisdom was needed, but his skills were transferrable.

"Of course," Severus ground out stiffly after a brief length of silence. "And yet, one might also be wary of Lucius' leanings towards self-preservation. I am inclined to believe that if there is something that Lucius will not discuss in front of you, there is a fair certainty that it may be _about _you."

"And what might he say?" Kinnaird inquired. Severus was immediately given to the idea that Kinnaird did not quite agree.

"It is simply a warning," Severus offered apathetically. "A hunch, if you will. You are welcome to leave the advice if you think it stands without merit."

Kinnaird exhaled loudly through his nostrils and folded his arms tight across his chest. "I am more than open to suggestions. Or, instruction, which is what I believe you are meant to give me."

The noise that escaped Severus was partly a scoff and partly a chuckle; he shook his head and indulged in a brief smirk. It was not a look of amusement, but borne rather of disdain. He took several steps toward the door, maintaining meaningful eye contact with Lupin.

"I can only do so much with what you have given me," Severus said as he reached the threshold of the room. "But find out what Lucius has said to the Dark Lord, and I may be able to help before this problem escalates beyond your control."

"And how am I to—"

"Do you expect me to predict when an opportunity will arise?" Severus snapped, visibly irritated. "I have told you what to expect from Lucius, and I have told you what you must do. It is your own resourcefulness that you must rely on, not my implicit instruction."

Severus waited a moment to see his words sink in for Kinnaird, and then his hand was on the door. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to the school. Lupin?"

"I will return later, Severus." Lupin glanced at Kinnaird, who did not look entirely welcoming of company, but neither did he object. "I think that Mr. Kinnaird and I have some unfinished business."

xxx

When Severus entered his house, it was with intensity reminiscent of a much younger Potions Master. The walk from the periphery of the property had seemed long, but his anger had hardly dissipated during the journey.

A brief inventory of the lower floor, and then Severus was headed to the upper. He had to ensure that Harry had made it here safely for the afternoon; it seemed to so foolish, now, that they had believed the Floo system a safe way to travel. If Kinnaird's memory had been accurate—and Severus felt confident that it was—then Voldemort would certainly be working to discover where he and the boy were traveling to so frequently.

Even more unsettling was that Severus had not been able to determine Voldemort's source of information. It had seemed so clear; Draco had vowed not to betray him, and yet Kinnaird was blameless as ever. But how Kinnaird had extracted himself so neatly from the web of implications, Severus was unsure. His eyes rolled briefly upwards at the thought. There was some obscure piece of evidence, he was certain, that perhaps he had yet to glean from the experience. It was for that reason that his thoughts were cyclically returning to the encounter, and continued to do so even as he searched for his son.

xxx

Harry sat in the center of a circle of candles, the room faintly tinged with orange emanating from the surrounding orbs. It was only in the clarity of a totally blank mind that Harry could feel the pressure of darkness against his strong mental barriers. And while Harry knew that such barriers were unnecessary, he felt that with the absolute control he had been granted in this moment, he had found a new option: that he could welcome the darkness might pose a possible advantage.

It was a fleeting moment and then Harry had forced the idea from his mind. That was not the reason for his practice today.

Harry kept his eyes lowered as they fluttered open; he inhaled deeply, blinked once more, and stared around the room. The intensity of the color lingering in the nearest glass spheres was brighter today, and Harry's lips quirked upwards at the small accomplishment.

His mind was awake yet quiet. He felt as though he were sharply aware of his own consciousness; his senses were more alert, while his control over his mind was nearing effortless. He faintly noticed the deep rise and fall of his own chest, his own breathing harsh against the stillness of the room.

Depleted of physical energy, it was a moment before Harry unfolded his legs from underneath him and rose to his feet. He exited the room, and was surprised but not startled to find his Father waiting for him some way down the hall, leaning with his back against the wall and his leg bent.

"How did you fare?" His Father's low tone was subdued, and he stood still as Harry approached him.

"Not too poorly," Harry answered as he came to a halt in front of the older man, who appeared darkly contemplative. Harry frowned in response to his expression, but continued. "I think I am making headway on the theories where she last left off."

Severus nodded slowly. "I applaud your efforts, but I am not certain it's best to venture into unknown territory before having mastered the already explored."

Harry shrugged, and began to walk slowly with his Father in the direction of the staircase. "All my greatest problems, and the greatest potential solutions, seem to be with my control over my mind. To approach White Magic in the same way as Occlumency…I can't help my intrigue."

"To extend the benefits and explorations of the mind's use in magic as an intriguing idea, as you say," Severus responded slowly; Harry could sense the qualification to come. "I have not expressly forbidden your foray into the art, but I request that you would advise me of your intentions before you try anything new."

"Sir?"

"We will have to discuss your advancement in this area before you push it any further past what we have already determined is safe. Do you understand my meaning, Harry?"

There was a depth in Severus' eyes as he stared down at his son that prompted Harry to question whether his mind was as well-protected as he had previously thought. He averted his eyes and focused on clearing his mind. Could Severus know what Harry had felt, today? That even as he had not allowed Voldemort into his mind, he could not entirely purge himself of the temptation to use their connection to see what his enemy was planning? Even if for only a fleeting moment, Harry had experienced a feeling of immense control… and a suggestion of the things he might be able to achieve in manipulating Voldemort as he had been manipulated before.

Harry shook his head and returned his gaze to his Father. His expression was benign, and he nodded sincerely. "Of course, sir. I would expect nothing else."

Severus' eyes flickered suspiciously over Harry's face, but all he said was, "Good." He turned and resumed walking. "We must return to the castle. We will need to Apparate, today."

"Why?" Harry questioned at once, frowning. "What happened?"

"The Dark Lord knows about our frequent trips to and from the castle. I have yet to determine how; I had thought it dangerous to be seen coming and going frequently, lest we were followed, but I wonder now if our use of the floo is being tracked at the ministry."

"Will we be coming back here, then? I mean, is it safe?"

"Our location is as safe as our Secret Keeper is trustworthy," Severus said slowly. "I do not think our location has been compromised… but I would not like to risk exposing ourselves if Voldemort is trying to monitor our whereabouts. We will have to be more careful about when we leave the castle, Harry, and whom we bring along."

"My friends?" Harry questioned. "If Dumbledore trusts them with the location of the Order Headquarters—"

"I don't distrust them, Harry," Severus interrupted in annoyance. "But the fewer variables in this equation, the sooner I can determine the source of the Dark Lord's knowledge. And not only that information—he has ideas about _you _which concern me as well."

"What _sort_ of ideas?" Harry inquired.

Tensely, Severus replied, "He is concerned with your strength—with your training."

Harry swallowed, nodded. He had often felt the Dark Lord's presence at the gates of his occluded mind; did the Dark Lord sense the power growing there? "So," Harry breathed, "What's next?"

"Well, to begin," said Severus ominously, now ushering Harry outside into the cool air, "I think we had better get thee to a pensieve."

xxx

Severus' quarters were dim, lit only by the glow of a dying fire and a sparse arrangement of candles around the room. In front of the fireplace, a shallow black basin sat, giving off a faint light of its own; for dozens of strands collected from his son were swirling together, the silver coloring brighter than normal for all of the memories contained within.

Next to the basin, a collection of vials sat uncorked, and next to Severus: Lupin. The gaunt figure sat slumped in the chair, a shallow glass of amber liquid clasped by its rim in his dangling hand. He took a sip, audibly swished it in his mouth, and swallowed with a faint rasp.

"Two hours, Severus, and no more than three of Kinnaird's memories correlated to those that Harry felt were significant." Lupin sighed. "What do you make of it?"

"I cannot say I am astonished," Severus answered him. "I had not expected him to be forthcoming with information."

"To the contrary, Severus, he appeared nothing more than happy to help. I believe that _he believes _in his innocence, wholeheartedly."

"And you?" Severus' question was honest in its nature.

Lupin hesitated, watching Severus with bated breath for a moment before he sat forward and placed his brandy glass on the table. He folded his hands in his lap and leaned into the warmth of the fire, contemplative. "I think we are missing something, Severus. There is some gap in perception, here, though I cannot say whose is correct. Perhaps we have overlooked something in Draco Malfoy's actions. It is hard to say." Lupin's eyes shifted sideways towards Severus; he crooked an arm and rested his temple on his raised, closed fist, resting his partial gaze on the Potions Master. "Draco must be the key."

Severus nodded solemnly. "When I left the Dark Lord's service, I felt certain that I would never miss the horrific experience of peering in to so dark a mind… how fitting now that I find it is the one thing I most desire to do."

The room turned quiet. Lupin appeared at a loss for words of wisdom; Severus was lost in his own search for answers.

Years ago, the solution might have seemed simple; this was what Severus had risked his life for—moments such as these. Moments when clarity was hard to find, and their greatest insight into the Dark Lord's mind was little more than hearsay. He had once been the solution to these problems; now, he was little more than a bystander.

And so Severus had spent hours, perhaps in vain, sifting through Harry's memories, sifting through Kinnaird's, to no avail.

"You see what you must do, don't you?" Lupin asked abruptly.

"Naturally," Severus responded with no small amount of disdain. "I'll have to access Draco's mind… but I wonder that he will allow me to do so freely. The child is quite accomplished in Occlumency. I am certain he has the ability to extract damaging memories before his meetings with me, if I know anything about how Lucius instructs his son."

"You will have to catch him by surprise, then, won't you?"

"That may be more easily said than it can be done, as it were," Severus muttered quietly. "The boy has a way of coming off quite blamelessly, I do believe."

"Yes, well," Lupin agreed, sitting forward. "Perhaps that is part of the problem. Perhaps it's not with him that we should be placing the blame… we must cut off the downward trickle of manipulation at its source."

Severus nodded slowly. "Yes. Lucius…"

"If Draco is as dedicated as he says—"

"It would be a mistake," Severus interrupted in a low voice, "to suggest that Draco might easily betray his own Father for the sake of our agenda. Draco may be an avenue to Lucius, but he will not be an easy one. This will take time."

"I agree with you, Severus," Lupin intoned, taking another sip of his drink. He swallowed, and added, "Which is why I am simply suggesting that you begin the journey now."

xxx

"Mr. Potter."

Dumbledore's bright blue eyes lingered smilingly on Harry for a brief moment, and then his gaze flickered to the left and right as he said warmly, "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley. By the oath you have sworn before this council of witches and wizards, you have promised to faithfully uphold the terms of your membership to the Order of the Phoenix. Do you understand these provisions as they have been read to you?"

"Yes, sir," the addressed parties murmured in consent.

"Then we welcome you as official members of the Order of the Phoenix!" Dumbledore spoke with an air of finality, and his expression was as convivial as his words. It was with a familiar twinkle in his eye that the older man's gaze briefly connected with Harry's. He added, "And may you put this resource to the best and wisest use. Now, I believe we have several matters to attend to. Severus, please, take the floor."

Dumbledore gestured in Snape's direction, and Harry's gaze shifted to his Father, who was seated across the table at the Headmaster's side. He nodded curtly in acknowledgement of the Headmaster and then addressed the larger group.

"I believe we are all aware of the dilemma we have come to find ourselves facing this year, but allow me to reiterate for those who may not have as wide a breadth of understanding as myself and the Headmaster. You have all met Branson Kinnaird, and I have no doubt that everyone has formulated one's own opinion of him. The crux of the issue that we are now facing is that it is uncertain whether he is the most reliable source for information, and yet, and he remains one of the very few chances we have to gain insight into what the Dark Lord has planned for us.

"As you can imagine, this puts us in a very difficult position—one of vulnerability, if I am to be consulted on the matter. This past week, Lupin and I met with Mr. Kinnaird outside of Hogwarts, as he has taken brief leave of the castle in order to attend to the Dark Lord's most recent orders. To date, Lupin and I have taken all the information he has been able to offer us, and we have come to only one sound consensus.

"Kinnaird is the last person we should be placing our faith in. I say this not because I believe him to be perfectly contemptible and traitorous, but rather because I have reason to believe that the Dark Lord has placed him in our midst with very specific goals in mind. Kinnaird has informed us that the Dark Lord has come under the impression that Harry is gaining rapidly in strength—I was uncertain how he should come to such a conclusion, but it does seem obvious after sifting through a significant amount of Kinnaird's experiences that the Dark Lord is gaining his information from a source other than Kinnaird. Likewise, the information he appears to be feeding the boy is not helpful in nature, and I would venture to say that it is even purposely misleading.

"I bring you this information with one goal in mind. If any of you can offer me a viable solution to replacing Kinnaird—even if he is not aware that he has been replaced—then I welcome it. Otherwise, I believe there is only one goal left to pursue.

"Draco Malfoy appears to be our best candidate for the job. Regrettably, however, I fear that he will cooperate as willingly as Kinnaird. This is going to take a considerable amount of careful handling, and a great amount of help from those within this sphere of influence."

"This is simply foolishness. You mean to tell me," interjected McGonagall, "we are still pursuing this as an option?"

"We are pursuing every option, Professor, until we have reached a viable solution," Severus responded coldly, turning his eyes on her with an expression of disdain. "Have you a better suggestion?"

"I do indeed," McGonagall retorted, equally derisive. "Have the days passed when we've relied on our own resourcefulness as an advantage? Have strategy and strength escaped us entirely? You were a welcome advantage as a spy, certainly, Severus—but it is entirely possible that we won't find a candidate to fill your boots. I don't believe we have exhausted ourselves thoroughly enough to excuse the use of _Draco Malfoy _as our next secret weapon. A child, and that of Lucius Malfoy's, no less! It is ridiculous that such a thing should even be suggested!"

Severus was staring dead ahead at McGonagall, but Harry had both his Father and the Headmaster in his range of vision. It did not surprise him that a look of satisfaction had crossed Dumbledore's face at McGonagall's objection, nor that his Father looked positively murderous.

"We have one advantage." Severus' tones were calm, restrained. "We would be fools not to press it. Malfoy is close to us… and the Dark Lord has not realized how close. An opportunity such as this is rare… and I wonder at the increasing difficulty of retaining resources. How long has it been since our informants inside the ministry have turned up anything of consequence? How far reaching is the Dark Lord's grasp that we have lost the cooperation of departments there that once worked so closely with members of this Order, even if unwittingly?

"The Dark Lord is _aware _of us now—his followers, even more so. Trustworthy sources are rare in these times… and I cannot see a way of bypassing this problem without employing cunning as our weapon of choice. Some here would argue that it is best to uphold honor in our actions, but I will be the first to admit that my success in earlier years had very little to do with nobility… and perhaps there is more than a correlation between the ruthlessness of those actions and my relative success… I would go so far as to suggest causation. And I will not be disparaged for having found another avenue for success, even if it seems unethical at first glance.

"I guarantee that the Dark Lord will not hesitate to use the Malfoy boy against us; Kinnaird is a diversion, but Malfoy is our golden goose. If that is not clear to you by now, then chalk it up to a relative lack of inexperience in these matters, and thank me for being available to make up for that shortcoming."

A stiff silence descended over the room; Harry watched the ripple of witches and wizards shifting uncomfortably in their seats, covertly glancing from neighbor to neighbor to see who would respond first. McGonagall was breathing heavily through her nostrils, shaking her head ever so slightly. Lupin's head was resting in his hands, turning ever so slightly back and forth. Kingsley Shacklebolt looked as though he were withholding a laugh, his eyes shifting between the opposing professors. Harry, for his part, was primarily concerned with what Dumbledore would have to say.

Dumbledore appeared contemplative, his gaze moving from Severus to McGonagall to the wider audience surrounding them, and then shifting back to Severus again. At length, he inhaled deeply and rested his folded hands on the table in front of him. All eyes in the room slowly came to rest on him; the high anticipation of his response was evident. Graciously, as always, he obliged.

"Severus has made some true assertions about our current situation, as I think that Kingsley can attest to…" Dumbledore nodded in the man's direction. "And while we may not all agree with his method, we must at least consider that he has provided us with a possible option in the face of a war in which we have relatively few. Mr. Shacklebolt, perhaps you can shed some light on the situation at the ministry for us, so that we may proceed with an educated discussion about the possibility of a new strategy."

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore." Shacklebolt's voice was deep and smooth, commanding of the room's attention. "We have unfortunately encountered many roadblocks where the ministry is concerned; a general lack of cooperation coupled with information leading to absolute dead ends has been one of the greatest causes of our failure over the past several months. And it is true that the problem appears to be growing; even to this day, we have been unable to determine the reason that all of Kinnaird's records have appeared to disappear from the ministry, or why the paperwork for Lucius' release from Azkaban has never been processed, as though it never happened in the first place. All evidence points to the likelihood of criminal activity within the ministry itself; unfortunately, the degree of infiltration is almost as impossible to determine as the answers to these queries themselves."

Shacklebolt paused, seemingly contemplative, before stating, "With all considered, I do not disagree with Severus' method."

An elegant arched eyebrow and a sweeping gesture of the hand, as if in gratitude for Shacklebolt's support, and eyes were back on Severus.

"He did not expressly _agree, _either, Severus," McGonagall pointed out in irritation, as the dark man smirked and leaned back in his chair.

"I agree with Severus in that we may need to get our hands dirty if we are to be successful," Shacklebolt amended. "I am not certain that Draco Malfoy is the best route to said success. Your reasoning remains somewhat of a mystery to me, as I am sure many people in this room will agree."

"It is the simplest route to Lucius," Severus stated very simply. "That is the most you will hear from me on the matter, but aside from the access to the Dark Lord, it is Lucius that I believe needs to be watched most closely. He appears to be providing the Dark Lord with extensive information… and I intend to discover where it is coming from. I am starting with his son."

Severus' manner was rigid, businesslike, something not to be argued with. And yet, Harry could see that more than one person was considering doing just that. Harry's pace quickened as the option to speak entered his mind; he was a member of the Order now, was he not? But in an instant nerves gripped him, and he was unsure what he would say should they acknowledge his right to speak. Would he support his Father? Denounce him? Perhaps offer up a solution of his own conception?

A glance stolen to his right, and he could see that his friend had no intention of speaking. Hermione's hands were clasped tightly in her lap, and her chest barely rose and fell with the signs of breathing. It was as though she was willing herself invisible, instinctually wondering if the adults in the room might have a change of heart should they notice her presence.

Taking his cue from her, Harry remained silent and returned his attention to the discussion in the room. When he did, it was Lupin who was speaking.

"...after spending several weeks in the castle, I myself am coming to wonder at the possibility of using the Malfoy boy. He is at least predictable; in my time with Kinnaird, I have witnessed a pattern of mood swings and erratic behavior that makes me wonder first at his ability to handle pressure, secondly at his proficiency at hiding his emotions from the Dark Lord. Malfoy is consistently cooperative with Professor Snape; though he may be shy of others, I urge you to trust the judgment of the one man who may know what he is talking about."

"Perhaps we had better simply put this topic to rest until the next meeting and see what our informants can scare up in the form of other evidence to rely on before we make some important decisions." McGonagall's lips were pursed and she spoke in slightly elevated tones, a sure sign that she was becoming flustered at the amount of support Severus was receiving.

Across the room, Severus looked bored, and Dumbledore appeared to agree, as he spoke at once. "A wise decision, I believe, thank you Professor McGonagall," he nodded in her direction.

If the phrase palpable tension were ever applicable, the time had come to use it. It seemed that no one felt brave enough to contradict either Professor McGonagall or the Potions Master. Harry couldn't say he felt anymore courageous than the others.

Dumbledore clasped his hands together and surveyed the room. "I believe we have arrived at the natural conclusion of a meaningful debate. I would ask you all to carefully consider the issues as they have been presented here today. In the mean time, I believe Molly has prepared a lovely dinner for us all downstairs, and I fear she will have our heads if we are late enough to put her well spent efforts toward a hot meal to waste. Meeting adjourned!"

The formerly calm room erupted into a flurry of speech and movement; among the commotion, Harry could see his Father speaking quietly to the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. McGonagall's expression was just as stern, if not more so, as it had been during the meeting.

While the other Order members were slowly drifting out of the door, including Ron and Hermione, Harry found himself inching closer to the trio of adults, straining to hear what they are saying. Almost as though he could sense Harry's curiosity, however, Severus turned his head slightly over his shoulder and frowned in his son's direction. When Harry did not immediately turn and scurry out the door, Severus waved his hand in a shooing motion and nodded towards the door.

Begrudgingly and somewhat embarrassed, Harry turned and left the room with no further argument.

"Wonder what all that was about," Ron remarked off-handedly, moving quickly downstairs with his nose leading the way to the kitchen.

"Not sure," Harry responded contemplatively, "But I sure as hell intend to find out."

xxx

"_Oof!_"

This was the sound that escaped the rather small Gryffindor first year Finley Aproot as he darted out from behind a group of older students just in time to collide rather abruptly with Harry, who was having some difficulty maneuvering through the busy corridors himself. Harry backed up and sidestepped the younger student, who muttered sheepishly, "Sorry, Harry," adjusting the glasses which had gone crooked on his nose and glancing around in embarrassment that someone might have seen.

"Don't get caught running in the hallways, Fin, we can't afford to lose anymore house points," Harry joked gently, bending down to gather the books the younger student had dropped. "And where are you hurrying off to anyway? Breakfast's in the other direction."

"Already ate," said the boy with a sniff, gratefully accepting his books from Harry. "But I've forgotten my Potions homework in the common room, and I can't be late one more time. Professor Snape's going to skin me alive…"

"Is that something he said?" inquired Harry dryly, fighting a smirk and shaking his head, "or something you've imagined on your own?"

"Something he said," Fin said with wide eyes, glancing around.

"Oh," said Harry seriously. He was suddenly assaulted by the memory of his own first-year self, quivering in fear as Professor Snape berated him for tardiness. Winking, he said, "Better hurry, then."

The boy nodded quickly and then was off again, leaving Harry to continue on his way.

"Excuse me," Harry said for what seemed like the hundredth time this morning, trying to make his way to the Great Hall in order to get some breakfast himself. It didn't seem fair, Harry pondered, that his classmates should seem so jovial at the end of term. Perhaps some of the more conscientious members of the student body were sequestered in some corner of the library, worrying over the final culmination of a year's learning. The overall impression Harry was gleaning from the giddy groups of students gathering in the hallways before the start of today's classes, however, was that a majority of his fellow classmates were consumed with the anticipation of summertime freedom from responsibility.

Not unlike previous years, Harry was not one of those students looking forward to the summer holidays. And yet this year, it had little to do with a return to the Dursleys (for this year, it would be a short one, most likely accompanied by his Father) and far more to do with the immensity of the barriers he would tackle over the coming months. While his induction into the Order the prior night may not have changed anything in actuality, it had enhanced his sense of control. It had reinforced the weight of the responsibility he was entrusted with. In truth, it made him feel incredibly _important _in a way he hadn't been before- not important as a pawn in a chess game, or the final piece of a puzzle that could otherwise never be finished, but rather as a player in the game.

Harry reminded himself that the responsibility he now felt for the masses around him was only a product of what he had asked for, and he was glad to have taken it on. His head seemed to hold itself higher of its own accord. His body felt stronger, his shoulders squared and his chest expanding wider with each breath. To himself, Harry smiled just slightly. He had been on this path for some time, but it wasn't until now that he understood what his path was. Now, he felt at least a sense of control.

It was with this same sense of calm confidence that Harry entered the Great Hall, glad to spot his friends at the Gryffindor table at once. Further ahead, his Father was seated at the head table; his expression today was one of intense concentration as he stared down at his breakfast. Harry snorted to himself and continued walking until he reached his friends.

What he found when he reached them, to his surprise, was the same expressions of intensity as they each clutched either side of the _Daily Prophet_—and as they looked up at him, their collective looks morphed into those of apprehension. Harry frowned and glanced back at his Father; as he suspected, now that he had come closer to where the man was sitting, he saw that he was not in fact attempting to consume his breakfast by staring at it, but was rather reading the paper in front of him as well. As though he could feel Harry watching him, he glanced up rather sharply. As their eyes met, Harry understood—something had happened. At once, he reached over and snatched the paper from his friends' grasps.

"What is it?" he inquired at once, his eyes searching the page. Hermione sighed deeply and reached upward, turning to the appropriate page.

"You're not going to like this," she said in a low voice, and glanced around the Great Hall as though to evaluate the impact the news had on the rest of the student population. A few students spoke quietly among themselves, but many of the others seemed largely unaware that there was any current news to discuss.

Spanning across the front page of the _Prophet _was a black and white photograph of Lucius Malfoy and Minister Fudge shaking hands and smiling. Almost as though he could stare right back at Harry from inside of the paper, Malfoy's smile widened and he gave an obnoxiously gracious nod. The headline read, "_Lucius Malfoy Absolved of All Charges; Ministry Offers Public Apology"_.

"What in the hell—how?" Harry hissed.

"Just keep reading," instructed Hermione.

Harry pressed his lips together and shook his head, but read on.

_ In a lengthy trial involving numerous witnesses and a wide range of supporting evidence, the case against Lucius Malfoy relating to his involvement in the break-in at the Ministry last May has finally drawn to a close. Mr. Malfoy's presence at the Ministry on the unfortunate day of You-Know-Who's return has been determined as an unfortunate coincidence, in which Mr. Malfoy was swept into the mayhem while visiting the Ministry on official business. In a statement from Minister Fudge: _

_The Ministry of Magic deeply regrets the false allegations and brief stay in Azkaban Prison as a result of this unfortunate misunderstanding, and offers the most sincere of apologies to the noble and gracious Mr. Lucius Malfoy. It is our greatest concern that Mr. Malfoy and his family be allowed to return to the normality of the life they previously enjoyed as great contributors to the Ministry and the surrounding community. As a direct application of this absolution of guilt, we ask Mr. Malfoy to return to his position here at the Ministry, restore his rights as an upstanding citizen, and return to him any personal property confiscated during his trial for justice. We ask for the public's full cooperation in reinstating Mr. Malfoy to all of his former positions within the community, and to rest assured that everything possible is being done to bring the correct people to justice in this case. _

The article continued on for some length, but Harry's patience had already come to its end. Crushing the paper in his hand in a furious gesture, his head whipped in Malfoy's direction, and he locked the other boy in an unfaltering stare. Malfoy's expression was defiant, but not strong. Harry's body quickly turned in suit, and he began to move in the direction of the Slytherin table. He had taken not two steps, however, when he felt a strong hand clench down on his shoulder. In an instant, he knew it was his Father who stood directly behind him, breathing heavily out of flared nostrils. Harry could see the rise and fall of his chest, and knew that he had practically flown from the Head table in order to put a stop to whatever Harry was planning.

"I just wanted to ask who his Father had to pay off to make this happen," Harry said through clenched teeth, answering his silent Father before the older man had an opportunity to reprimand him.

"Come with me," Severus said succinctly, releasing Harry's shoulder. He glanced back at Ron and Hermione, distain apparent in his expression. "You, too."

"I've not finished breakfast," Ron muttered, but quickly shut his mouth at Snape's challenging look.

"I cannot tell you _who _Malfoy has bribed to secure his place back at the Ministry," Snape said quietly once they were a safe distance away from any of the students, and nearing the Headmaster's office, "but I can tell you that my thoughts turned to the same immediate conclusion. Whatever trial," Snape spat the word as though it were a curse, "the _Prophet _alludes to was either heavily manipulated or never happened at all."

"I'd wager it's the second one," Harry said bitterly.

"As would I," agreed Snape, speaking the password to the stone gargoyle and ascending quickly up the stairs. "Had we any knowledge that such a thing was happening, I can assure you the Headmaster would have ensured a far different outcome. However, what's done is done," said Snape resolutely, turning to face Harry and his friends as his hand game to rest on the brass handle of the door to Dumbledore's office, "And now we can only deal with the consequences. Which does _not _mean harassing Lucius' son, but rather going to the source of this problem _directly_."

With no further ado, Severus entered Dumbledore's office. Gathered with the Headmaster were Professors McGonagall and Lupin. To the left of them, Kingsley Shacklebolt hovered near. Severus nodded his greeting to the other men and turned at once to Dumbledore. "I assume you have contacted the Minister about this debacle?"

"I am still awaiting a response," Dumbledore confirmed. "It seems he is quite caught up in the misappropriation of justice, as it were."

"I had thought that we had finally come to an agreement with Fudge," said Lupin. "After Voldemort showed up knocking at the door of the Ministry last year. Now, what happened?"

"I think that is currently far beyond any of our understanding, Lupin," McGonagall remarked irritably. "I am currently more concerned with his position on the school board. Can we be certain that the board of Governors will stand strong? Or must we fear that the "former positions within the community" also pertain to his involvement at Hogwarts? I can't say what I will do if I find that man striding pompously down our halls."

"He wouldn't dare," Harry ground out; everyone seemed suddenly surprised to see him standing there.

"He would, actually," Kingsley Shacklebolt said from his place at the Headmaster's shoulder. "The primary reason for my presence, actually."

"Kingsley here has agreed to escort Mr. Malfoy upon his arrival at the school today," Dumbledore stated grimly. "It seems that he wishes to meet with me, but I do not trust his intentions."

"He would not come here if not with the intention to boast, Headmaster," Lupin contributed, rolling his eyes and sitting forward. "I doubt the wisdom in allowing him to enter the school at all."

"If he is to enter, I would prefer it to be on my terms," Dumbledore responded evenly. "I won't have him strolling through these doors on a day when he knows I am not in attendance. I plan to lay down some very clear rules for his limited involvement in this school."

"Yes, Headmaster, we all know how well he follows _rules_," Severus muttered derisively. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Well, as much as I hate to agree with Severus," McGonagall added, waving her wand in his direction and raising her eyebrows.

"With a clear name, Lucius Malfoy is once again free to take control of Draco Malfoy's life," Dumbledore stated firmly, staring fixedly at the space between Snape and McGonagall. "Do I need to explain why it may be ill-advised to start a war with his Father?"

Neither Professor responded, and Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, looking as though his patience was worn thin. "Mr. Shacklebolt, if you would kindly depart for the entrance hall, I believe Mr. Malfoy will be arriving soon. We shall see what he has to say for himself."

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: I have been very busy, but I have not forgotten about you. My summer semester ended yesterday and here is a chapter!

I hope to post a few more before summer is out.

Hoping you enjoyed the chapter. Reviews are the best part of my day, lovely readers :)


	54. Checkmate

Chapter 54

Checkmate

xxx

Amidst the commotion of a meeting adjourned, Severus caught peripheral sight of his elder colleague in hushed conversation with the Headmaster. Minerva McGonagall was not joining the queue down to the dining room—oh no, far from it, she was staring intently at him now, beckoning him with her glare. Casually, Severus slid his gaze over to her; he lifted his eyebrows in imitation of surprise at seeing her there. He rose from his seat and moved quietly over to them. The only person in the room who seemed to have noticed him moving was his son, whose stare was equally as catching as the old woman's. As Severus noticed the boy attempting to linger behind, he flashed a warning glance at him and waved his hand toward the door; a freshly minted Order member, now was not the appropriate time to draw attention to his intrusive sense of curiosity.

With a subtle swish of his wand, Dumbledore closed the door behind the last exiting Order member. The silence of an empty room did not last long.

"I must say," McGonagall said at once, her manner terse as ever, "that putting this complex matter to a vote borders on inappropriate; I am disappointed that either of you believed it was a wise decision to lead such a discussion in the presence of our new Order members. Albus, these are Mr. Malfoy's _peers _for Merlin's sake! And Severus, honestly, manipulating a young boy to turn against his own Father—I wonder at your lack of moral qualms about such a plan of action, having so recently become a Father yourself!"

"It is _hardly _the same situation, Minerva," Severus ground out, immediately affronted by her accusatory tone. "Draco would be _fortunate _to be removed from his Father's influence; it is only in his best interest that I would make such a suggestion."

"And the psychological ramifications, Severus? Have you leant any consideration to those? No one can argue that Lucius Malfoy is ill-suited to parenthood, but he is still the boy's Father. Lucius Malfoy constructed the mold that Draco was fit to; you will not erase almost two decades of that man's influence. I doubt, very much, that Draco can overcome all of these barriers; why would he? What could possibly be his motivation for turning his back on his family?"

"He is afraid, Minerva, it is plain to see. And there are many benefits to fighting for our cause—"

"You are manipulating him," McGonagall stated coldly, folding her arms over her chest. "You are using the same tactics as his Father, but without a leg to stand on. You are _not_ his Father, Severus, and you will lose that battle every time. You will see—in the end, Lucius will win his loyalty, and you will be sorry that you ever gave Draco the opportunity to betray you."

One glance at Dumbledore, who sat serenely silent in front of them, and Severus could see that it was his sole duty to defend his plan. The Headmaster would be no help here; no, far from it, the man looked almost satisfied with McGonagall's tongue-lashing tactics.

Not an easily defeated opponent, Severus paused to consider his answer. He folded his hands calmly in front of him and leaned against the table in a half-seated position. Only his dark irises were visible between his narrowed eyelids. McGonagall was visibly bristled by his flippancy; Severus could almost imagine her in animagus form, hackles raised and teeth bared as she hissed in warning. The corners of his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Headmaster," Severus began silkily, although he continued to stare directly at Professor McGonagall. "If Draco Malfoy's satisfaction with this arrangement is the issue of contention, now, then why do you not speak with him yourself? Professor McGonagall, perhaps that would assuage you? Since you have so altruistically taken up the well-being of one of my Slytherins as your own cause."

"Severus, I believe you already know where Mr. Malfoy stands on that issue," Dumbledore responded tiredly. "He wants nothing to do with me."

"Ah, yes," Severus hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I do vaguely recall that the last time you spoke to him, he requested _me_, in fact. That is what happened, am I right?"

Dumbledore paused, and then, flatly, responded, "Yes, Severus."

"And this was after a particularly difficult weekend with his Father and the Dark Lord."

"Yes."

"A weekend after which, if I recall correctly, he refused to return to classes and altogether seemed to have given up," Severus stated pointedly, staring hard at McGonagall as he spoke. "An issue which was resolved shortly after our discussion. In fact, I would say that Draco's behavior has drastically improved since that day he sought me out… would you disagree?"

Dumbledore did not respond immediately, and Severus thought he understood why. It was because Dumbledore, for all that he did well as a Headmaster, did not want to admit that helping Draco might have been the one department in which he had failed miserably. He did not want to admit that it was Severus who might be making a difference, now, and that he had been wrong to write the boy off as an option. But even as Severus knew that this was the case—that Dumbledore had thought Draco a lost cause, that while he had perhaps not given up on him completely, he had neither leant him enough credit to give him a chance—and Severus also knew that he could now appeal to that sense of guilt. Dumbledore was a man who would give a chance to any living soul seeking redemption…Severus simply had to make the case that Draco was seeking it in his own way.

"So then we can be comfortable, at least, in the assumption that it is Draco who has requested my help, yes? I certainly have not coerced him in any way."

"Albus, honestly," McGonagall finally intervened, seemingly having heard enough. "You can't believe that this is an idea of Draco Malfoy's own conception… that Severus has not played any part in this."

"Minerva," Dumbledore sighed, "Perhaps we cannot rule out the idea that Severus has lead Draco to this difficult choice… but neither can I say that it is wrong of him to do so. I seem to remember a time when Severus was also reluctant to accept my help, after so many years in which I had failed him. I sometimes wonder whether I should have intervened earlier, and I believe Severus is well qualified to make this decision."

Both Severus and McGonagall looked to Dumbledore in slight surprise, although it was certain that the source of confusion was different for both parties.

"It is important that we act in the boy's best interest. Minerva, I agree that we should find alternative solutions to the use of either Kinnaird or Malfoy as a viable alternative to the inside information Severus once provided. In the same vein, Severus, I believe we should not rule out information from either of those sources and that we must be careful that we are not taking advantage of a confused young boy. Do either of you object to these statements?"

"No, Headmaster," McGonagall said reluctantly. Severus merely cocked his head as a sign of agreement.

"Similarly," Dumbledore stressed, gazing intently at Severus as he did so, "We must not neglect Harry's training in the process. Though I wish it were not the case, the most important duty we have is to prepare Harry for the day when he will face Voldemort once again. You have heard the prophecy—you know it is true. Only one can survive; we must exhaust all of our available resources to ensure that Harry is the victor."

"I could not agree more," McGonagall said quietly, staring resolutely in the opposite direction of Severus' gaze.

"Thank you, Minerva," Dumbledore responded with a small smile, nodding in her direction. "Your concerns have not gone unheard, and I thank you for your valuable wisdom. Now, I wonder if you would allow me a moment to speak with Severus before I leave for Hogwarts."

"Certainly," McGonagall agreed, indignation seemingly assuaged for the moment. "You will not be joining us for dinner?"

"I unfortunately have pressing matters to attend to. Thank you, Minerva."

Severus waited until the older witch had left the room before inquiring poignantly, "Pressing matters, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat, moving around the table to stand in front of Severus. "There is something I must attend to at the Ministry, but I require your discretion."

Dumbledore's manner was serious; Severus responded in kind, nodding solemnly. "Of course, Headmaster."

"A rather vague missive crossed my desk this morning, Severus," Dumbledore stated enigmatically, expression shrewdly contemplative. "If my understanding is correct, Lucius Malfoy may soon become a rather public problem for us."

Severus stared at him with perceptibly wider eyes; when Dumbledore paused, he questioned further, "Headmaster?"

"We have known for some time that Malfoy has not been staring at the walls of a cell in Azkaban. His release from the prison has never been discussed in the public sphere." Dumbledore took a deep breath, and continued to speak in an immensely calm manner. "I have an informant who currently performs clerical work in the Magical Justice department. It seems that editors of the Daily Prophet have been meeting regularly with the senior member of the Wizengamot who presided over this case. I intend to find out why… I rather dislike surprises of this nature, Severus."

"An official statement was never given on Lucius Malfoy after the initial arrest," Severus stated in a way of clarifying his understanding. "I had thought this was simply an effort made to save the ministry's reputation."

"Or perhaps, Malfoy's. The ruling that placed him on House arrest took place in a closed meeting from which both Minerva and I were necessarily absent. I feel it essential that I proactively become involved before another supposed _ruling _takes place—before that puppet-master emerges from behind the scenes."

"I agree, Albus. With the public support of the Ministry of Magic, Lucius Malfoy's reach knows no limits." Severus paused as he considered the possible meanings of what Dumbledore had just told him. "I hope you will keep me apprised of the situation."

"I will do my best, Severus, but what I wanted to tell you now is to concentrate on your son. I know you are fighting for ways to protect your son, but do not spend so much time focusing on the war that you forget to cherish whatever time you have left with him."

Severus' eyes narrowed defiantly, and he snapped, "Time left, Albus?"

"I simply think your time might be best spent _with _your son, Severus. I think that in the end, all that you've done will prevail… but if it does not, you will not get this time back. The best way to help the boy is to be with him. Help him to increase his strength. Prepare his mind. Council him through the difficulties he faces daily. You are the one person who can do this… you are his Father. And that is what he needs, right now. Not another strategist steering him down a predestined path, but someone to guide him in other ways. Do not forget that."

When Severus did not respond immediately, Dumbledore smiled sadly and patted him on the shoulder. "I hope you will just consider more than Harry's victory and remember that he is a boy. That is all."

Severus wanted to respond with anger; he searched for the words—something biting, something that would scathe. But he did not find those words; he did not react with ire. Instead he swallowed a lump that he was only suddenly aware of and nodded curtly, his expression impassively stern.

"I must be going, now, Severus. You know that this is an appointment that I must keep."

"Yes. Headmaster," Severus answered brusquely. And with little delay, he was left alone in the room to ponder the mistake that he had not even realized he had been making. At once, he departed for the kitchen; he would fetch Harry and take him back to the castle. It suddenly seemed as though he had not spoken to the boy in ages; perhaps, as the Headmaster suggested, he had been neglecting his son for too long.

When Severus arrived in the kitchen, however, his son was nowhere to be seen. In fact, many of the Order members had dissipated by now; it seemed that only the older Weasleys and Professor Lupin remained. Perhaps he had spent more time speaking with Dumbledore than he had meant to.

"Where have the children gone?" Severus inquired as Molly rose to fix him a plate. He next opened his mouth to object as Molly gestured that he sit down, but he snapped it closed as she preemptively interrupted:

"Severus, I won't have you arguing. I prepared this dinner and it would be rude for you to refuse."

"I don't believe the Professor is overly concerned with bad manners at the moment, Molly," Lupin said with a touch of amusement, observing Severus' blackened expression.

"_Besides_," Molly continued with a scolding look at Lupin, "I am hoping you will answer some questions for me."

Molly's expression was determined, and the smell of the food was inviting, but Severus inquired further, "Where has Harry gone?"

"Miss Granger was concerned over a Herbology test taking place in the morning," Lupin informed him.

"Professor McGonagall gladly escorted them back to Hogwarts," Molly Weasley added, setting a plate down on the table and again motioning for Severus to sit. "They should be in bed by now."

Severus doubted that was the case; the three were almost certainly huddled around the common room fire, quietly discussing the events of the evening. In any case, Severus certainly wasn't going to be paying a visit to Gryffindor Tower tonight. Begrudgingly, he sat, and began to eat quickly. He was hungrier than he'd have liked to admit.

"Now, as Harry is your son, I trust that you are monitoring the children's involvement in the Order…"

xxx

It was early in the morning when Severus heard a rapping at his door; he didn't want to rise from the comfort of his bed, but the knocks came with a sense of urgency, and that was something he couldn't easily ignore with knowledge that it was likely his son that stood outside. He slid from beneath the warm covers of his bed and shivered as the cold morning greeted him. He wrapped his dark robe around his body and moved quietly to the door, unlocking and opening it swiftly. He did not find Harry standing outside, however. Draco Malfoy was waiting for him, looking both panic-stricken and guilty.

Shocked to find Malfoy standing there, Severus reacted somewhat harshly. "I trust this is quite urgent," he said almost warningly. Malfoy cringed visibly, but nevertheless responded:

"Can I come in?"

"Very well," Severus answered, glancing around the hallway over the boy's head; it would not do for him to be followed. "Get in here." Severus closed the door quietly and turned at once to Malfoy. "What on earth could you need at so early an hour, and that required you to visit my personal quarters, for that matter?"

"It's my Father…" Malfoy said, extending an early edition morning paper. "He sent me this last night, but you were not in."

Lucius' face was on the front page; Severus quickly snatched it from the boy in front of him. A cursory glance across the headline, and Severus saw that his and Dumbledore's worst fears had already been confirmed. It seemed that Dumbledore's visit to the ministry the night before was not nearly as preemptive as he had thought. "So, Lucius has been acquitted."

"What should I do?" Malfoy asked at once; it was clear that this was question he had come hoping to have answered, but Severus was uncertain of what to say.

"You shan't do anything," Severus sighed, lowering the paper. "What do you expect to do? He spent barely any time in Azkaban in the first place, before he was removed to await trial in his own home… this will not affect you, Draco, as much as it will affect others."

"My Father has been obsessed with what occurs at this school for some time… and so has the Dark Lord. Now, he'll be watching my every move… I don't know if I can keep the vow that I made."

A low breath escaped Severus; there it was. He had known this conflict was one he would soon have to deal with, but he had hoped to have more time to convince Malfoy to switch sides before the time to make a decision had come.

"Draco, sit down," Severus sighed, pulling a chair out from his desk and gesturing toward it. Silently, Malfoy obeyed. "I am going to make this very simple for you." There was something ominous about the way he said this that made Malfoy straighten in his chair and look him in the eye.

"You have vowed nothing," said Severus, moving across the room, "except that you will not give away any information that would betray us." Severus flung open the doors to the cupboard in the corner of the room, withdrawing his pensieve from within. He raised his wand and guided it across the room. "Draco, if you so choose, I will take from you every memory that could possibly fell you."

The sound of the heavy stone basin dropping onto the hard wood of Severus' desk reverberated off the walls of the empty office. Malfoy stared at it, eyes wide in deliberation. Severus spoke from behind him, his voice drawing nearer as he walked toward the desk.

"You can, at any time, be done with this arrangement. I want to emphasize that you chose this. It is a risk—it will always be a risk, to do what is right. I hope that you will remember why you made the decision in the first place, but unlike your father, I will not force you down a path you have no desire to follow."

"I just want you to tell me what to do about this," Malfoy said, shaking his head and holding up the Daily Prophet. He dropped the paper to his lap and ran a hand fretfully through his hair.

"I can't tell you what to do," Severus responded. "But I can tell you I was once faced with a similar decision, and it wasn't until it was too late that I realized which one I should have made. I am not here at Hogwarts because I was coerced. I would not do that to you."

"I need more time to decide…" said Malfoy. "I am afraid my Father is going to force me to leave the school."

"I don't believe he will, Draco. If he is interested in what occurs here, you are his way to that information. But Draco, you must start proving that you are valuable to the Dark Lord's cause. You should not be alarmed at your Father's release, you should be concerned over what the Dark Lord will do with it. Like it or not, Dumbledore will be able to help you in this area far more than myself. I am merely a diversion for the Dark Lord—Dumbledore will give you what you need to succeed, if you are willing."

"I will think about it," Malfoy reiterated somewhat begrudgingly, staring resentfully at the pensieve atop the desk.

"I take it, then, that you would not like to take me up on my offer," Severus inquired smoothly, shifting his eyes to the empty basin. Malfoy shook his head slowly, as though he was unsure of his answer. "My advice to you, then, is to celebrate with your Father. If he feels that you resent his release—which he may already, Draco; you are inept at hiding your emotions—he will test you. This is something you _must _avoid."

Malfoy's head was in his hands now; he looked quite ill. "The Headmaster is going to think that I knew about this. My Father is already getting more difficult to lie to… I can't win, Professor."

"Let me take care of the Headmaster," Severus answered him, undaunted. He was stepping toward the door now; he placed his hand on the handle, and Draco rose from his chair. "You must compose yourself, Draco. That is all that you can do, for now. There are many factors to consider, I realize, but you must also understand that many of them are outside your realm of control."

Malfoy stopped in front of the door, but Severus did not open it just yet. "You look exhausted, Draco. You'll need your wits about you today, I am certain; try to get a few hours of sleep before breakfast."

"I imagine that will be more easily said than done, Professor."

Severus sighed. "Wait here."

Severus swept into his small inventory closet and removed a small vial of sleeping draught. He returned to where Malfoy stood and tucked it into his hand. "Two drops, and you should find some rest and wake in time for classes to begin."

"My first class is Potions tomorrow, Professor…"

"Yes," Severus replied sternly, staring darkly at him. The boy had some audacity. "And I will expect you to arrive ready and alert for the work we are performing today."

xxx

"I've not finished breakfast…" Ron Weasley whined, causing Severus to tense against the creeping desire to strangle his son's redheaded friend. His piercing expression silenced Weasley momentarily, and Severus jerked his head towards the doors of the Great Hall and began walking. He directed his gaze at a few students who were paying attention a little too closely for Severus' comfort; they quickly averted their gaze.

The walk to Dumbledore's office was long and necessarily silent; it seemed that few students in the castle were disturbed by Lucius Malfoy's acquittal, and that was the way that Severus preferred. One could never be sure of whose ears might be the wrong ones. Which was precisely why, Severus thought as he discreetly glanced over his shoulder at Harry, he was escorting his son and his friends to the Headmaster's office.

It irritated Severus, to put it simply, that he had needed to interrupt the scene his son was about to display in the Great Hall. Every so often, Severus started to believe that his Gryffindor nature was something he might overcome with maturity; every so often, Harry went out of his way to prove that this was not the case. In any case, if his son and his friends were going to discuss what had happened, he would prefer that they do so in the safety of the Headmaster's office, and with all the correct information. He knew what happened when the trio didn't have answers; they went looking for them, often in the wrong places.

When the corridors had finally cleared and they were nearing the office, Severus began to speak. "I cannot tell you who Malfoy has bribed to secure his place back at the Ministry, but I can tell you that my thoughts turned to the same immediate conclusion. Whatever _trial_," Snape spoke the word as though he were mocking it, "the Prophet alludes to was either heavily manipulated or never happened at all."

"I'd wager it's the second one," his Son muttered.

"As would I."

Severus paused briefly and gave the password to Dumbledore's office. The staircase appeared and they ascended. "Had we any knowledge that such a thing was happening, I can assure you the Headmaster would have ensured a far different outcome. However, what's done is done." As Severus' hand clasped the handle of the door, he turned to the children. "And now we can only deal with the consequences. Which does _not_ mean harassing Lucius' son, but rather going to the source of this problem directly."

As they entered the office, Severus nodded to his colleagues and Shacklebolt before addressing Dumbledore. "I assume you have contacted the Minister about this debacle?"

"I am still awaiting a response," Dumbledore confirmed. "It seems he is quite caught up in the misappropriation of justice, as it were."

"I had thought that we had finally come to an agreement with Fudge," said Lupin. "After Voldemort showed up knocking at the door of the Ministry last year. Now, what happened?"

A daft question, Severus pondered to himself. What ever happened, in these instances? The right people were bribed, feigned ignorance, turned a blind eye. It was not worth pondering how it had happened; it was only important now that they come to the reality that the ministry would no longer be any help to them. Far from it, it would soon become a hindrance.

"I think that is currently far beyond any of our understanding, Lupin," McGonagall remarked irritably. "I am currently more concerned with his position on the school board. Can we be certain that the board of Governors will stand strong? Or must we fear that the "former positions within the community" also pertain to his involvement at Hogwarts? I can't say what I will do if I find that man striding pompously down our halls."

"He wouldn't dare," Harry ground out; everyone seemed suddenly surprised to see him standing there.

"He would, actually," Kingsley Shacklebolt said from his place at the Headmaster's shoulder. "The primary reason for my presence, actually."

"Kingsley here has agreed to escort Mr. Malfoy upon his arrival at the school today," Dumbledore stated grimly. "It seems that he wishes to meet with me, but I do not trust his intentions."

"He would not come here if not with the intention to boast, Headmaster," said Lupin. "I doubt the wisdom in allowing him to enter the school at all."

"If he is to enter, I would prefer it to be on my terms," Dumbledore responded evenly. "I won't have him strolling through these doors on a day when he knows I am not in attendance. I plan to lay down some very clear rules for his limited involvement in this school."

"Yes, Headmaster, we all know how well he follows rules." Severus folded his arms across his chest and stared dourly at the floor.

"Well, as much as I hate to agree with Severus," McGonagall huffed from beside him.

"With a clear name, Lucius Malfoy is once again free to take control of Draco Malfoy's life," Dumbledore stated firmly; Severus glanced up at this. "Do I need to explain why it may be ill-advised to start a war with his Father?"

Severus bit his tongue; he did not want Lucius Malfoy walking through the doors of this school, but Dumbledore was right. They did not have the support of the ministry; Malfoy did. If they wanted to fight him, they would have to do so silently, subtly.

"Mr. Shacklebolt," said Dumbledore, "if you would kindly depart for the entrance hall, I believe Mr. Malfoy will be arriving soon. We shall see what he has to say for himself."

"Of course, Headmaster," said Kingsley. He exited quickly from the office, and Dumbledore's gaze fell on the three students standing silently in the room. He contemplated them for a moment before turning his eyes to Severus.

"They can't be here when Lucius arrives."

"Of course not, Albus," Severus responded. "But I am certain that they would like to know how you are going to proceed. Let us not forget the reason Lucius was indicted in the first place."

"That scum is part of the reason that Sirius is dead," Harry said in a low voice. He and Lupin's gazes locked for a moment; they all awaited Dumbledore's response.

"I urge you not to take any of these matters into your own hands," Dumbledore responded patiently. Severus nodded in agreement and turned to look at his son. Harry's lips were pressed together tightly; whether withholding a torrent of grief or infuriation, Severus was uncertain. "Lucius has not been in Azkaban for some time; it is not as though that has changed."

"I want to know how this happened," said Harry. "We have to find out who helped him."

"I think it is a rather more complicated matter than that, Harry. I am afraid this is the work of more than one individual."

"So you won't do anything, then?" asked Harry. "That's what you're saying."

Dumbledore sat forward and placed his folded hands atop the desk. "I visited the ministry yesterday, Harry, in an attempt to stop this very thing from happening. Needless to say, my attempts were unfruitful. But that is not to say that none were made."

"So what will happen now? Malfoy will pave the way for Voldemort? Turn the ministry into his puppet?"

"Harry," Severus murmured warningly, and the boy clamped his mouth shut. He had hoped that by bringing Harry here, any thoughts of acting alone might be quelled. It seemed that the opposite effect was occurring; Harry was becoming increasingly more indignant.

"Our first objective," Dumbledore said, elevating his voice just enough to be noticeable, "is to restrict Malfoy's influence over this school. I assure you, we have no intentions of standing idly by. What I would ask of you three is to abide by the promise you made upon joining this order and refrain from interfering. You must trust me."

Dumbledore's tone was growing firmer with each word, and Severus hoped this would be enough to stay Harry's hand. He hoped that a direct order from the Headmaster would prove a little more effective than one issued by himself.

"Promise me that you will be careful not to put us in a precarious situation," Dumbledore implored solemnly, making eye contact with each student. "Right now, a conflict with Lucius may lead to a conflict with the ministry itself. Do you understand me?"

Harry nodded grudgingly, and Hermione spoke up from behind him. "We will not interfere, sir. You have our word."

"Thank you," Dumbledore responded sincerely. "And Harry, I promise you in return that he will bring no harm to you within this castle."

It was almost just as Dumbledore finished speaking that a knock sounded against the door; at once, Severus stood.

"We've stayed too long," Severus hissed, scolding himself internally for allowing this overlap to occur. "I'll expect your best manners," he said as he turned toward the children, and he grasped Harry by the shoulders. A moment later, the door opened and in stepped Kingsley Shacklebolt, escorting Lucius Malfoy.

By all accounts, Lucius looked better than he had in several years. His robes were brand new and immaculate; a shining gold color that illuminated his gloating expression. His ice blue eyes were drawn immediately to Harry and his lips curled into a contemptuous smile.

"Potter," Lucius greeted him coldly, and then his gaze transferred to Severus. He frowned just slightly, and taunted softly, "Or… is it Snape, now?"

"It's Snape, to you," Harry retorted quickly, surprising Severus. "But I guess it doesn't matter anyways—Potter or Snape, I'm still the boy who lived."

"Yes," Lucius responded smoothly, "_For now._"

Harry moved forward suddenly, but he halted so quickly that he might have flinched. Whether it was because of Severus' iron like grip on his shoulders or his own consciousness of Dumbledore watching his every move, Severus was simply relieved that he was biting his tongue. Truth be told, Severus was having difficulty controlling even himself. "Time to go, Harry," Severus commanded tersely, steering him towards the door. His eyes met Lucius' and his lips curled upwards; their gazes were locked as though in a silent duel, each waiting for the other to draw.

"I can't believe this," Harry snapped as Severus ushered the trio into the Potions classroom. "That he should even be able to set foot inside Hogwarts after everything he has done…"

"Given your past experiences with the Ministry of Magic, Harry," said Hermione, "I am not certain why you're surprised. Justice is not their finest suit."

"Nothing of worth has ever been accomplished with a mind full of rage," Severus advised quietly as the three children scooted past him. Harry snorted disdainfully. "Enough," Severus warned. "Sit down."

The three sat, albeit with a bit of grumbling.

"I understand your frustration, Harry, but no one in this castle is to blame for Lucius' acquittal. Dumbledore did not know that this was even a possibility until it had already happened. You cannot continue on this quest for answers when no one here as any to give you. Now, class will be starting soon, and I want to give you some instructions that I expect you to pay heed to.

"Firstly, you are not to goad Draco Malfoy, in any way. I shudder to think what might have unfolded in the Great Hall this morning had I not been present. Secondly, you are not to discuss this matter around your other classmates."

"Dad, it's not exactly a secret," Harry interrupted.

"It doesn't matter," Severus snapped in rejoinder. "People will be waiting for our reaction. Lucius was already out of Azkaban—whatever it is that he has planned, he needed to have his name cleared in order to do it. As his first order of business was to request a conference with the Headmaster, I assume it is Hogwarts he is concerned with."

"So what _should _we be doing, Professor?"

"When I have an answer to that question, Miss Granger, you will be the first to know."

xxx

Double Potions was drawing to a close, but Harry was not coming any closer to a perfect potion. He had been far too distracted to pay attention to each meticulous step of the process, and he partially resented his Father for giving such a difficult assignment on today of all days.

"What do you think, Hermione?" Harry asked, dumping a spoonful of the lumpy solution back into the cauldron and staring down at the bubbling slime disdainfully. "A for Acceptable?"

Hermione lifted a dubious eyebrow.

"Poor?"

She hummed thoughtfully, apparently not feeling generous today.

"Surely not Troll!"

"You forgot Dreadful, I think," Severus' deep voice announced, and Harry looked up just in time to see him mark a large D in red ink on his grade records.

"Seriously?" Harry objected, but Severus merely cocked an eyebrow and moved on to the next cauldron. Growling slightly under his breath, Harry looked over at Hermione, whose cheeks were slightly reddened. "What'd he give you?"

"Exceeds Expectations," Hermione admitted sheepishly. Harry glowered. "What?" she gasped. "It's not an Outstanding…"

"Oh, well as long as it's not an Outstanding," Harry repeated the word mockingly, rolling his eyes. He returned to glaring at his Father, who was moving around the room. "Honestly…"

"We'll do better on the Transfiguration test," Hermione said, an attempt at encouragement. "At least we're prepared for that…"

But Harry wasn't listening. His gaze had already shifted from his Father—this was something he was used to, after all, poor marks in Potions—to Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be having an equally difficult time completing his potion.

For someone whose father had just secured public redemption, he certainly did not look as pleased as Harry might have expected. Harry glanced back at Severus once again. What did the man know—what did he know that made him continually defend the other boy? And could Harry simply accept at face value that Malfoy wasn't all that he appeared, but that there was something that had redeemed the boy in his Father's eyes?

"Clear your work stations," Professor Snape commanded of the class, and Hermione kicked Harry under the table. When he looked back up at his Father, he saw the older man watching him closely.

"What?" Harry mouthed, and Severus shook his head disapprovingly.

"Come on," Hermione whispered. "Don't goad him; Ron's waiting for us. He wants to look at my notes before the test."

"You have all been slacking, lately, so I will inspect your stations individually before you are dismissed," Severus said to the class, walking around to the first table that had been cleaned. "I want to see your tables sparkle."

"Should be difficult, seeing as they're wood," Harry commented to Hermione.

"Harry!" she hissed, rolling her eyes and performing a scrubbing spell on their tabletop.

As Severus visited every other table in the room, Harry began to suspect that he was detaining them on purpose. Ten minutes later, when the rest of the room was empty and his Professor stood silently in front of them, his suspicions were more than confirmed.

"Professor Snape, Harry apologizes for his behavior," Hermione said hurriedly. "Please, sir, we have a test to get to—"

"This won't take long, Miss Granger, but you are free to go. Everything looks to be in order."

Transfiguration notes in hand, Hermione all but jumped out of her seat and fled the room. Severus watched her amusedly, and then turned back to his son. "I hope you are not this disrespectful to all of your Professors."

"Of course not," Harry answered him.

"Why are you being like this?" Severus questioned seriously.

"Like what?"

"Harry!" Severus barked. Harry jumped a little, but did not respond. Severus sighed, shook his head, and ran a hand through his hair, which was in need of a good wash. "I would like you to have dinner in my quarters this evening."

"Is that where you're holding detentions these days?"

"Don't tempt me," Severus replied evenly, folding one arm over the other. "I am certain I could find enough work there to keep you busy. But for now, I would simply like to share a meal with you in private. It seems to me that we have been rather out of touch, lately."

For words that seemed sentimental in nature, Harry pondered, his Father sure did have a way of making them sound just the opposite. It was as though the man were offering him a business proposition. Still, Harry could appreciate the spirit in which they were intended.

"Yeah, alright," he replied, feeling somewhat guilty for goading. "When?"

"Come whenever your friends make their way down to the Great Hall," Severus instructed. "I am hopeful that by then, I will have heard something new from the Headmaster… something that perhaps I might share with you, as long as you do well enough on your Transfiguration test to prove to me that this whole situation has not become too much of a distraction for you."

Harry's eyebrows lifted, and he all but jumped out of his seat.

"Better hurry," Severus told him with an almost imperceptible wink. And without another word, Harry bolted from the classroom, leaving Severus to chuckle to himself while he prepared the room for the coming influx of first-years.

xxx

"I just hate the idea that he was even in this castle. That he could just walk through those doors at any time. I've got to get that map back."

Harry sat between Ron and Hermione in the Gryffindor common room, leaning back with his legs outstretched before him. He stared lazily into the fire, his arms crossed over his upper body. Next to him, Ron and Hermione were quiet and tense.

Harry wished that Ron and Hermione would respond to him, but he knew what was happening. They were hesitant to engage him; he had been increasingly antagonistic, combative and given to fits of temper throughout the day. He was wound up like a muggle toy… he felt like a toy.

It was as though Lucius Malfoy were playing a game with them. His visit to the castle today had been nothing short of a victory lap, a public parade of his ability to outsmart even as intelligent a wizard as Dumbledore himself. Harry couldn't wrap his mind around how this had occurred, and what it meant about their true chances at winning this impending war.

Everyone had been so preoccupied with _Harry_. Harry Potter, or was he Harry Snape? The boy who lived… or would he be the boy that died? All eyes were watching him, and they had been turned when Lucius Malfoy slithered his way back into his position as the Ministry's puppet master.

Somewhere from the back of his mind, a small but helpful voice pondered whether he was being dramatic. As Hermione sometimes reminded him, he (not unlike his Father) had a tendency to brood.

"Well, at least he was escorted through here like the criminal that he is," Ron offered as a late afterthought, as though he had been pondering his answer for some time. "Even if he can walk through Diagon Alley without being arrested, now, Dumbledore'll never forget what he really is. Dumbledore's always gone over the Ministry's head, anyway. Always had to, idiots they are."

"Let's not forget Umbridge," Hermione mumbled, shaking her head. "Who knows, Harry. Maybe your Dad will have good news for you."

But that was not the particular feeling that Harry got when he arrived to his Father's quarters that evening. Though rigidity of form and slightness of speech were not altogether uncharacteristic, they were neither indicative of pleasant tidings to come. These were the first observations Harry made when he arrived for dinner.

Severus answered the door at Harry's second knock, as though he had been waiting impatiently for him to arrive.

"Good evening," Severus greeted him when he swung open the heavy oak door. Around the corner, Harry caught a glimpse of a set table; dinner had been served—most likely by the house elves of Hogwarts, by the presentation.

"Please," said Severus as he led Harry to the table, "Sit."

Severus moved quickly around the small table and took his seat. When Harry had done the same, the older man filled his plate at once. Harry followed suit, watching him out of the corner of his eyes as he feigned interest in the food that had been prepared.

"Looks good," Harry offered as a way of warming the conversation, but Severus merely grunted his agreement and continued to eat. "Thank you for having me," Harry then offered. Severus swallowed and looked up at him, seemingly taken aback.

"Thank you for coming," he responded with a nod, his eyes searching Harry's expression.

Harry nodded and remained quiet; his Father was again acting formal. It made him seem distant. Harry wondered if this was the way he had been taught to act by his own Father; at once, the thought felt intrusive.

Harry helped himself to a cut of roast beef. When Severus returned to silence, Harry tried to eat without talking for awhile. He ate quickly at first, hoping to finish dinner quickly; he wanted to hear about Malfoy, and he was certain that his Father was aware of his curiosity.

After some time had passed, Harry ventured tentatively, "So, I don't want to be rude during dinner, but… did you talk to Dumbledore today?"

Severus' head was still tilted downward, but he raised his eyes to meet Harry's gaze. Swallowing and clearing his throat, he sat back in his chair, cleaned his mouth with the linen napkin that had been spread across his lap, and dropped it onto his plate. His plate at once vanished from the table, and Harry's thoughts concerning the house elves were confirmed.

"I did." Severus answered Harry's question with a nod; he looked hesitant to continue. "The Headmaster seems optimistic that we will be able to limit Malfoy's involvement in the school."

"Limit?" Harry questioned, fiddling with a piece of bread.

"Lucius has not been reelected to the board of governors, which is a positive sign that they, at least, have not been corrupted as of yet. _However,_" Severus paused and held up a single finger, as though to stay Harry's reaction, "Lucius has preemptively obtained written permission from the board that he may visit the school at any time."

"What?" Harry practically spat his food back onto the plate before him. "Why?"

"Lucius has a longstanding history of conflict with Headmaster Dumbledore," Severus began to explain. He spoke slowly, choosing every word carefully. "As I am certain you remember, during his time spent as a governor, Lucius made multiple zealous attempts to have Dumbledore stripped of his duties as Headmaster. Now, keep this fact in mind, and ponder to yourself how it looks to the board of governors that since Lucius' incarceration and, consequently, his removal from this school, Draco's formerly high grades have plummeted and his stays in the hospital wing have increased astronomically. Lucius argues that Draco has been neglected as a way of retribution for Lucius' past 'endeavors to uphold the Headmaster of this school to a higher standard', as he phrases it.

"Now," Severus continued, folding his hands in front of him and abandoning his dinner altogether, "Hogwarts has a policy that states that any parent should be allowed to request an appointment with the Headmaster or any Professor of this school. Lucius contends that to ban him from the castle is in direct violation of this policy, and that to do so would be a direct act of discrimination against the falsely accused."

"Wouldn't it just be easier if Draco left Hogwarts?"

"Harry, Lucius won't pull Draco out of Hogwarts… he's too convenient."

"Well, why doesn't Dumbledore ask him to leave, then?"

"Somehow," Severus answered dryly, eyebrow quirked, "I think that might cause more harm than good."

"So you're saying that he could walk through the doors of Hogwarts at any time, and no one has any right to stop him?"

"Not quite," responded Severus. "The policy states that a parent may visit by appointment, and Malfoy will be expected to follow that protocol. As a measure of heightened security, he will be escorted to his scheduled destination; he is not to be wandering the school, and he certainly will not be able to get close to you."

"How can you be so sure?"

Severus cocked his head to the side and glanced upwards. "I may have filed a letter of complaint as well… as a parent, rather than a staff member of the school. As your parent," he specified. "Suffice it to say, if Lucius Malfoy so much as enters the same room as you, I will have him banned from this premises. But if you seek him out, Harry, there is nothing that I can do. You _must _be on your best behavior, where he is concerned. If Lucius Malfoy is intended as the Dark Lord's path to you, we must make certain that it is not an easy one."

xxx End Chapter xxx

AN: I've been listening to you guys! Loved writing this chapter, hope you loved reading it :)

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